


Coming Home

by BinaTheWitch



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brother-Sister Relationship, Cats, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluffy, Gunshot Wounds, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Kinda, Leo being a little shit, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaTheWitch/pseuds/BinaTheWitch
Summary: Iris Manfred didn’t want to move back to Detroit. In fact, she hated the idea of moving back with her father; it was her damned empathy that couldn’t leave him to deal with his newfound paraplegia on his own. Then her dad’s old friend added an android, the RK200, into the mix. With Leo’s addiction skyrocketing, tensions rise through the Manfred mansion. To make matters worse? Now Iris is part of a goddamn revolution. (Markus/OC)Maybe she should have stayed in LA. All she needed was her sculptures and cigarettes.





	1. Bye Bye, LA

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! This is my first ever fanfiction on an Ao3 account, so I hope you all like it!

_Take a deep breath._

_This is your childhood home._

_Nothing to be afraid about._

Iris took a look at the mansion before her, the humongous brick building looming above her like a monster. Her chocolate brown eyes stared at the structure, frozen in her spot. She repeated the three sentences in her head like a mantra, but still, she couldn’t move. Oh, she did **_not_** want to be back.

“Um, miss?” A gravelly voice sounded from behind her. _The taxi driver._ He pulled up next to her, huffing loudly with her luggage rolling on the pavement behind him. “This **_is_** the correct address, right?”

“Yup!” She chirped, and winced at how high her voice sounded.

“Then…” He gestured to the building. “Why aren’t you moving inside?”

“Just give me a minute!” It came out as a screech, high pitched and wavering in tone. Iris looked up to the building, down to her pocket in her worn, paint and clay splattered jeans, up to the brick again, and immediately pulled out her cigarette pack. _Yup. This one will be gone before night falls._ Hopefully the convenience store down the street is still open. It’s been years since she was in Detroit; she was keeping her fingers crossed that it hadn’t changed much.

As she set a cigarette between her teeth, she mumbled out a quick, “The money for the fare has been transferred. You’re all set,” to the driver before lighting up the stick. The taxi driver, staring at her disheveled look, shrugged and waved to her.

“Have a good one, miss.”

Iris bobbed her head in what was supposed to be a nodding fashion, but was executed as more of a shake. _Damn it. Can’t you act normal for one damn second?_

Ignoring the sound of the taxi driving away, she puffed slowly on her cigarette, savoring the quick moment of peace while the sun beat down on her short frame. _You’re lucky I love you, dad. I’m putting my life on hold until we can figure this out._

As the last of the ashes fell off her stick, Iris let the butt of the cigarette fall to the pristine pavement and stomped on it with a quick twist of her old black sneakers. _Okay, enough dilly-dallying. It’s time to head inside._

Her fingers pocketed the butt into her back pocket with ease. _No waste! Into the trash you go_. Sighing, she set her heavy backpack on a shoulder and her two fat suitcases rolling on wheels behind her. The soft _clunks_ of the wheels provided a white noise as she made it up the long, curving walkway to the mansion her father called a home.

“Alarm deactivated,” a robotic voice from the security system chimed out. “Welcome home, Iris Wren Manfred.”

The door slowly opened for her, and she mentally thanked whoever built this house for adding such a nice feature. Having to open it manually would _not_ have been fun.

The echo of her footsteps rang throughout the opening of the house, and she took in the familiar structure. A warmth of nostalgia spread through her figure. _Okay, maybe moving back home won’t be **too** bad. _She stopped in the middle of the room, letting her luggage rest behind her on the floor as she surveyed the empty grandeur of it. The room hadn’t changed much. Her fathers’ paintings, some of which she hadn’t seen before, were strewn about messily. On the desk stand by the mirror, his home phone receiver and a picture of him, Iris, and Leo. _Probably the only damn time the three of us smiled when we were together._ Childhood was… difficult, to say the least.

“You’re early.” An old voice rang through the room proudly, pulling her out her nostalgia. Iris’s head shot up to the stairs, quickly finding her father at the top, landing first on the beaming smile then to the new shiny wheelchair underneath him. The funky neon orange contraption on the wall of the staircase was new, too, but she couldn’t be bothered to care.

She couldn’t lie to herself. The joy and relief that flooded her system made the journey from LA back to Detroit worth it. “Since when have you known me to be late, or _just_ on time?”

“Since never.” He grinned to her. The soft patter of footsteps behind him echoed through the room, and a nurse in pale blue scrubs silently walked behind him, working to put his wheelchair on the wall contraption. “Meet Vida. She’s been my nurse since the accident. Watch closely, you’ll be learning all the ropes today before she leaves.” His wheelchair clicked into place, and Carl descended the staircase in fashion. Vida trotted down the stairs with ease, keeping her eye on Carl to make sure he was alright.

Iris winced at his words. “About that… Dad, are you SURE you want me to take care of you? I just, y’know, I’m not exactly qualified for this kinda stuff. I don’t want you getting hurt because of my fuck-ups.”

“Iris,” her dad said sweetly, pulling away from the machine with Vida’s help and coasting towards her. “I asked for you to be here because I trust you with every fiber of my being. It’ll be weird these next couple of days, even _difficult_ , but we’ll get a hang of it. Together.” His hand grasped at hers, pulling her close. And for the first time that day, she let her worry fly away. She knelt on the ground and grasped tightly at her father’s middle, giving the tightest hug his fragile body could handle. He felt like home to her.

“I missed you. **_So much_** , dad.” Iris whispered to him.

“I missed you too, little flower.” He answered sweetly. “I am so glad you’re home.” When she pulled away from his embrace, all she could do was beam at him.

“Okay,” Iris started, pulling up from the ground. “Sounds like I have a lot of learning to do. Let’s get started.”

* * *

THREE WEEKS LATER

_Cler-plunk!_

“Son of a-!”

“What’d you do this time, dad?”

Their words ring through the empty corridor between them; Iris in the kitchen, Carl in the living room. She peeked her head out the door, searching for her father’s figure in front of the tv where she left him. This time he was swerving his wheelchair around the base of the giraffe figure, fumbling around a new mess of books on the floor surrounding him. The shelf just above his reaching level newly emptied.

“Oh, dear.” Iris whispered under her breath. Quickly she wiped the pancake batter from her hands onto her favorite apron and scurried to her father in quick strides. As she knelt on the ground to stack the books up, she asked, “What happened?”

“I just wanted one damn book.” Carl muttered, jaw clenched. “ _Just_ over-calculated the reach and my wheels pushed the bottom.”

“It’s okay, dad.” Iris reminded him. Nimble fingers set the hardcover and paperbacks into place again, smiling at him sweetly from her spot on the ground. “We’re still working out the kinks, remember?”

Slowly he let his jaw unclench, and he gave her a tight-lipped smile. “You’re right. Sorry. It’s just frustrating sometimes.” Her hands grasped at his resting on the chair. Iris gave it a tight squeeze in reassurance.

“I get it. Like you said when I came back, it’s still an adjustment. We’ll get there.”

She sounded much more confident than she felt. These days, waking up in odd hours of the night to help her father to the bathroom, administering medicine, keeping the house neat, feeding the both of them, _and_ carrying him around the house… It was too much for one person.

But she would **_never_** tell him that. Iris was his rock in his life-changing time.

“Okay,” Iris stood up from her spot. “The food’s just about done, why don’t we get you to the table and I’ll bring it over? Do you need any help getting there?”

“I can wheel myself over; I’m fine.” With jerky yet practiced movements his old hands grasped at the wheels, tugging himself forward. “Hopefully I don’t knock down the tv from here to there.”

Iris let out a soft chuckle as he zoomed forward, not really pacing himself as he went. Iris internally winced as he whizzed just a bit too fast while spinning to the other side of the table.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Carl asked. Iris headed back into the kitchen, her small fingers grasping at the spatula to spoon some scrambled eggs and pancakes onto two plates.

“Let’s see…” She thought aloud. Her hands worked together smoothly to pour out her tea and her father’s milk (no coffee for him for a while. The caffeine would mess with his meds. Some mornings he would say that it was the worst outcome of the accident.) “I have a couple pieces I wanted to set in the kiln. You have that yellow and red painting that you wanted to finish, the cute small one.”

“Ahh, I tossed it out.” Carl replied off-handedly.

Iris’s dark brown eyes blinked, then leered over to his frame in the open doorway. “I’m sorry, you did _what_ now??”

“I wasn’t liking how it came out, so instead of wasting more paint on the canvas I decided to scrap it. It’s not the end of the world, little flower.”

Just as Iris grabbed at her and her father’s plate to serve, she quickly noticed the small blinking blue light on the answering machines small length. The little hologram just above the area read, “ _Kamski_.” She never heard of a Kamski before. She raised an eyebrow at it, but said nothing on the subject, seeing as how she was still yelling at her father for throwing out a decent piece of art.

“ ** _You_** were the one who told me that each piece we create is—” Iris started as she walked, popping into the dining room to set the plates down in front of her father and her empty spot.

Carl looked amused as he finished the phrase, “Unique and charismatic on its own. Yeah, yeah. Preaching to the choir here.”

She strode back to kitchen and grabbed their glasses as he continued. “Honestly, I haven’t created a decent piece since the accident. I just… can’t bring myself to like anything I put on a canvas.” He frowned down at the table, to himself, mentally berating his lack of artistry. It was one of the most important things in his life, and he’s been in a two month stump. _Damn accident._

“Another thing you always told me?” She smiled thoughtfully as she set his cup on the table and sat down across from him. Her lips pursed as she took a sip of her green tea, savoring the warmth that spread through her body. “You can’t force art. The more you struggle with it, the harder it’ll be. Don’t discourage yourself. You’ll see. Give it a bit and you’ll be back at the canvas in no time.” She took another sip of her tea before adding, “I’m grabbing that piece, by the way. You are **_not_** throwing a single one away. Not on my watch.”

“Fine.” Carl nodded, agreeing with her. How could he not? He’s repeated that same dialogue time and time again to her. She was right.

“We have that small gala downtown, tomorrow.” Iris piped up. “Almost forgot. That could be neat. Maybe it’ll get the creative juices flowin’.”

“Maybe.” Carl shrugged in his spot. _At least he isn’t saying no._ She was very glad he was willing to go. It’d be his first public event since his car accident. They’d get emails and phone calls asking for his attendance, and each time the answer was the same. Hopefully one yes will be all it takes to flip his switch and get him back into the art world.

The rest of their breakfast was eaten in a comfortable silence, leaving the pair alone to their own thoughts. Hearing her father had thrown out a painting had thrown Iris for a loop. If he was willing to do _that_ , his mental health might be worse than she thought. Maybe she’d get in touch with his doctor today, see what she can do with getting him out of the house more often. Fresh air and human contact would be good for him.

As the last bits of pancakes and eggs were eaten, Iris stood up and grabbed the empty dishes and dirty silverware, balancing them easily enough on each other to set them in the sink. _The one good thing I learned while waitressing my way through college. Never again._ As she set dishwashing soap on a new sponge, a small blue blink caught her eyes.

The voicemail. She had forgotten.

“Hey, dad?” Iris called to him. “Who’s Kamski?”

Instead of immediately answering the question, she could hear the whoosh of his wheels against the hardwood floors. Carl appeared in the doorway, a calm demeanor held. At least, that’s what he had hoped he’d looked. The worry in his eyes _totally_ didn’t give anything away.

“An old friend.” He responded smoothly. “I used to give him painting lessons. He’s left me messages every now and then since the accident. Why do you ask?”

Iris pointed to the small machine on the countertop with her sudsy sponge. “Looks like he left you another one.”

“I’ll get to it eventually. Don’t bother clicking on it.”

_Damn it,_ he thought. A mistake.

_Why would he say, “Don’t,” click on it?_

And there it was. Her suspicions raised from about 15 percent to 35. “Why not?”

Carl straightened his back in his chair and folded his hands delicately on his lap. “Because, sweet daughter of mine, that is a personal message from my friend. You wouldn’t want to intrude, would you?”

“Y’know what, dad?” Iris said, gently setting the sponge down onto the pile of dishes in the sink. “I think, I think I do, actually.” Her tone was airy and teasing, but still. Carl knew what she would say the second she heard the message.

“Iris Wren…” Carl said warningly.

“Father dear.” She copied his tone. “Oh no, my finger is over the button. I think it’s gonna push it. And oops, The Button has been pushed.” Carl sighed in defeat.

A female robotic voice rang through the air. “You have one unheard message. First unheard message.”

A hologram appeared above the countertop, showing the Manfred’s a young gentleman—he was older than her for sure, but not up there like her father—with long black hair swept in a loose ponytail behind his head. Striking blue eyes stared into nothingness as the fellow adjusted the black jacket he wore over a white button-up shirt. He was very pale, and his cheekbones sharp and defined. He had an extreme of air of sophistication about him. Iris was intrigued, to say the least.

“Carl, old friend.” Kamski’s hologram stated with a smirk. “It’s been a while since I last left you a message. I’d like to hear back from you one of these days.”

Iris glared lightly at her father. _Not nice, dad._

Kamski’s voice drawled on, and Iris couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it. He sounded… mysterious, and detached, but there was something oddly soothing about his tone. She decided she could listen to it for hours and never get bored.

“My offer still stands, you know. Now, he’s not an _official_ model by CyberLife, but he is an advanced android by my… personal design. He’s an RK200 model, never before seen to the public. He could keep your house in order, cook, and make appointments for your appearances at those banquets and art museum openings you love to go to. Most importantly, he can **_take care_** of you. All your medicine, doctor’s visits, daily bathroom visits; **_all_** of that is in his programming. No cost, no fees, nothing. Just some help for an old friend.”

Iris looked back to her father’s contorted face as Kamski’s voice ended his voicemail with, “I truly do hope I hear from you soon, Carl. You don’t have to be, _shouldn’t_ be, living this way.”

Kamski’s voicemail fizzled out of existence, and Carls’ eyes stared, fixated, on the empty spot. “ ** _No._** ”

“But dad-” Iris started.

“ ** _NO._** ” He repeated hotly. “We do **_not_** need an android in this house. We get by fine on our own.”

“Dad,” Iris nearly whined. “I thought you liked androids?”

“I do.” He answered matter-of-factly. “But we don’t need one. Getting one would mean we need help, and we don’t. We are getting by **_just fine._** ”

_You might be. I could use an extra couple hands._

Iris decided to test the waters with him. “What, do you think that, by taking Kamski’s offer, it shows that we’re… we’re weak? We aren’t. There’s nothing wrong with needing an android. Having one isn’t a testament to being fragile.”

Carl said nothing in return. The statement was met with a glare in her direction. He would not, **_could not_** , take Kamski’s offer. He was **_fine._**

“The answer is no, and that’s final.” Carl emphasized, and wheeled himself out the room without a second thought. Iris stared at his back as he zoomed away from her. She let out a huff of air, and brought a hand to shakily push her brunette tresses away from her face. Her hand landed on her mouth, fingers curling around her lips and chin as she thought about the damn predicament she was in.

A _free_ android. A _never-before-seen_ android. The thing could be delivered here by next week and she could breathe easier. She could be released from her 24/7 duties.

But no. Carl Manfred was too stubborn to admit they could use the help. _Damn my father._

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Iris grabbed at her cigarette pack, went to the small breakfast nook that jutted out of the kitchen area, and sat on the window sill. With one window opened she lit a cigarette and puffed at it slowly, resting her leg on the other end of the nook, contemplating.

What the _fuck_ was she going to do about this?

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

“Ready, Iris?”

“Just about!” She answered with a chipper tone. Once she had her second silver teardrop-shaped earring in she stepped out of her bedroom, into the hallway where her father was waiting.

“Oh, wow.” Carl said breathlessly. “You look stunning, Iris.”

She smiled cheekily. “Thanks, dad. Not too much?” Her heels clinked against the wood floor as she moved in a circle, showing off her dress. It was a simple turquoise color, off the shoulder with a heart neckline. Very flowy and breathable; shorter in the front, starting at about mid-thigh, and ending at her ankles in the back. At the top were a couple silver studded accents, so she went with her favorite teardrop-shaped earrings, two sets of silver studs, and small silver heels to complete the look. Her brown hair, which stopped a few inches past her shoulders and was angled neatly to frame her face, was in little waves.

“It’s perfect.” Carl grinned to her. He wore a simple black tuxedo suit, a button-up white shirt underneath, and a turquoise-colored tie to match his _stunning_ date for this evening. “You’re going to be the main event tonight, forget about the paintings.”

“Oh, you mush.” She playfully rolled her eyes, but took the compliment sincerely. Her dad always had a way with words. With ease she got behind his wheelchair and began pushing him to the staircase. The gala would start in about an hour and a half, and the museum had asked for the famous Carl Manfred to be there before the doors opened.

“You call me that, but I’m serious. You look very much like your mother.” He smiled to himself as he softly added. “Did you know that turquoise was her favorite color?”

Iris was almost stunned. He would _never_ talk about her mom. Ever. Saying something so sweet was out of the blue and honestly, very welcoming.

“I didn’t.” She answered quietly. “You remember that?”

“It was one of the few things we talked about when I met her. One of my pieces back then showcased the color, and Anna commented on how it made her feel whole.”

Iris set his wheelchair into the stairs lift, and she walked down slowly as her father moved down against the wall. “What else do you know about her?”

She knew most of the story, but still. She wanted to hear whatever she could.

Carl gazed thoughtfully up to Iris as she stood in front of him. “You know I don’t know much about her. We only ever met once. But, let’s see… She liked turquoise, she loved art. She told me that every time she went to an art banquet was like a vacation from the real world. Oh,” his breath caught in his throat at the memory. “Her favorite holiday was Christmas. And she loved fall weather. The colors were striking to her. The way the leaves changed, and the kids gearing up for Halloween… It was special to her.”

“Yeah?” Iris said softly. She hands grasped at the back of his wheelchair, pulling it through the doorway and down the driveway as he continued.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I wish I could have known her more.” The edge of his mouth quirked up. “Then again, I was a bit of a player back in my youth.”

“Ew.” Iris scrunched her nose in disgust, but still she let out a soft giggle.

“It’s true.” Carl chuckled. “But still, that one night gave me the best surprise a man could ever ask for.” His hand went to the top of his chair, searching for hers. She grasped at his wrinkled fingers tightly, stopping the wheelchair in place. “You.”

Iris pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead. “This is why I call you a mush. The best mush ever.”

“I better be.” He responded, laughing softly. “Now, c’mon, time for a gala.”

 

The first thing Iris did when they came back home was kick her shoes off. Heels sore, toes cramped, but finally released from their beautiful prison.

“Freedom!!” She cheerfully exclaimed. “Finally, at last!!”

Carl gave a low chuckle, though it was slow and drowsy. The clock on the stand by the door read 1:30am. Both Manfreds were ready to get upstairs and head to their individual rooms, sleeping the excitement away.

“What’d you think, dad?” Iris asked, making quiet conversation as she set his wheelchair against the staircase device.

“Actually,” he started. “I loved it. The people were very lively today. Sometimes they can be so dull that I want to leave. Not often, but it _does_ happen.” With quick mechanical movements the device whirred him up the stairs, and Iris trailed behind him as she hopped up them barefoot.

“Well, I’m glad.” She said. “I’ll check our emails tomorrow, see if there’s another one coming up we could attend. Getting you out of this house more often might do you some good.”

“Maybe.” He admittedly nodded. “Maybe we could go to one of yours together.” He couldn’t argue; he had fun tonight. Maybe getting out in the art world more often could help him adjust. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I really want to pass out. I just need help getting dressed and in bed. If you want to change first, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Okay.” Iris nodded. “I’ll wheel you into your room real quick, clean myself up, and come back. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

And that’s exactly what she did. With ease she whirled him next to his dresser so he could pick out new pajamas while she was getting herself ready.

Nowadays, she could do her own chores quick. First she changed out of her dress into an old t-shirt and some shorts, wiped most of her make-up off (if some got on the pillow, then she would deal with it in the morning. She was too damn sleepy to care at this point.) Last thing was to replace her teardrop earrings with another set of studs.

“Shit-!” Iris heard her father curse loudly, and then the sound of something scratching. It rang throughout the house as her blood pressure spiked. _What did he do now?_

She raced down the hall to his room, where she found him barely hanging on to the edge of the bed, wheelchair sliding itself further away from him, his useless legs dangling underneath him. “Dad!” She could hear his quick huffs of air mirroring her own, except his wind was knocked out of his lungs.

She ran behind him and quickly grabbed at his waist, gently easing him onto the floor. She didn’t have enough arm strength to set him on the bed, not in a way that wouldn’t hurt. The floor was the next best thing. Her fear ran through her quickly, adrenaline pumping at the thought of her father getting hurt.

Once he was resting on the floor, his back against the edge of the bed and safe, Iris let out, “What the _fuck_ happened?!” between quick breaths. She was on the floor across from him, staring at his slumped figure.

“I-” Carl sighed deeply, staring at the floor in shame. He was quiet, so quiet that Iris could barely hear him. “I was trying to get on the bed myself. I figured if I was already up there, you would have less work. But I forgot to lock my damn wheels in place before moving.”

“Dad…” Iris pleaded to him. He didn’t respond. But he had to see it now. He **_had_** to. “We need help.”

In the silence, Carl finally agreed. He could repeat that they were doing just fine, but if they truly were he would know not to test his limits. He wouldn’t be on the floor right now.

“We’ll call Kamski in the morning.”

                                                                                               


	2. Warm Welcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris and Carl welcome home their official android, the RK200. As the three settle into their new normal, Iris gets an unexpected call from someone she misses dearly.

Her favorite place to smoke was the kitchen.

Well, her favorite place in the house was the kitchen, period. It was home-y. Her place. Don’t get her wrong, she _loved_ the mansion. She loved her father’s paintings and her little pottery strewn about, messy yet well-kept. Their studio outside, a mess of paintbrushes and hunks of clay and jotted down ideas mixed in a mess on tables, it was amazing. But that was _their_ place. The kitchen was _hers._ She could spend hours in there, working on new recipes and baking to her heart’s content. Iris could make three dozen pastries in no time. It was a trait she knew she got from her mother.

And in this kitchen was the little breakfast nook that jutted out the side of the house. There were three pieces bulging from the structure in total, and nearly floor-to-ceiling windows on each piece. The edge of the window stopped a good two feet from the floor, so when she opened one to smoke she could sit on the frame and stare out the window, pensive. It’s where she was in the moment, smoking her fourth cigarette in a row while she waited for a car to pull up. It was the perfect spot to check on the road while she and her father waited.

Her father was alone in the studio, waiting for the android to arrive with only his paints for company. While he wasn’t completely against the idea now, it still took some nudging from Iris to take that extra leap and call Kamski. Speaking of, the ex-CyberLife employee said it would come by at exactly noon-time. Iris didn’t make the arraignment, her father did. But she was really happy he did. Ecstatic, even. Hopefully the android would provide her some ease in taking care of Carl.

As the time on Iris’s watch turned exactly 12, a car pulled into the driveway. _Damn. Punctual._ Leaving her cigarette pack on the window sill, she squished the end of her lit cigarette to the edge of the frame and stood up. With a quick huff to recharge her thoughts, she ruffled her hair and started striding to the front door.

The android was too quick for her. It made its way to the door faster and had pressed the doorbell once, allowing the loud noise to ring through the mansion for promptly five seconds.

“Yup!” Iris called, picking her feet up more as she scurried over. “Coming over!”

When she opened the door, she nearly gasped at the android in front of her. He was tall; taller than her (though that’s not hard. She was only 5’2”.) He wore the typical male android outfit: Dark pants, dark jacket with a blue holographic band on the right upper arm, undershirt hidden. His hands were clasped together behind his back, resting peacefully. But _him_ , woah… Green eyes, bronze skin, short buzzed hair, chiseled features. Intensely set eyebrows and firm muscle build. If Iris had walked past him on the street, she would have thought he was human. Elijah Kamski must have put weeks and _weeks_ worth of work into making him.

 _It_ , Iris thought. _This is an, “it.” Easily perceived by the blue LED circle behind its right eye._

The LED in question began to blink yellow, its pieces slowly circling in unison before it returned to the soft blue.

“Good afternoon, Miss Manfred.” The android calmly greeted. Iris realized she hadn’t said anything when she answered the door; just stared at him with her mouth slightly agape. He didn’t seem to mind. He shouldn’t— _it_ shouldn’t. “I am your new RK200 model, an android created by Mr. Kamski.” It waited a beat before adding, “May I come in?”

“Uh, of course.” Iris found her voice and nodded. She pulled the door further open, allowing it to easily walk past her so she could close the door.

“My orders inform me I am to take care of two people. Iris and Carl.” The RK200 said, looking back to her.

“I’m Carl.” Her father said, easing himself into the room. Iris stared at the yellow and orange paint against his cheek and the top of his shirt collar. _Uh oh, someone made a mess._ But unfortunately that was not all there was to look at. With a harsh set glare in the androids direction and a clenched jaw, Iris could tell how tense he was feeling with the new development.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” The RK200 said, curtly nodding in Carl’s direction and even smiling. “Now, what are my daily duties?” It looked between both humans, awaiting an answer.

“Little flower, would you like to fill him in? I need to go wash up.” Carl asked and already began zooming away. She sighed internally. _More change equals more bumps in the road._

“Sorry,” Iris apologized quietly once her father was out of earshot. “He actually loves androids. He just never thought _he_ would need one.”

The android nodded to her, its LED flashing yellow quickly. “That’s quite alright. I understand that for some humans our personal integration to daily life may be difficult.”

“Uh huh.” She said to him, and got back on track. “So, daily chores. Um, dad likes to get up pretty late in the morning most days. He needs help with showers, though baths are easier. He has a pretty intense medicine schedule that we need to keep on track of. Some diet restrictions.” She began walking slowly throughout the walkway, pointing out small details of their everyday life. Books, games she and Carl liked to play, their studio outside. All the while the android took in the information, his LED staying mostly in yellow while Iris chattered on.

“What do you and Carl like to eat?” It asked her as they passed the kitchen. “I can download over 20,000 recipes online based on personal criteria.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that.” She waved off the request. “I am more than happy to cook for myself and dad. I love being in the kitchen.”

The androids eyes swept over the new area, looking at the clean counter space, few dishes in the sink, and landing on the opened window and pack of cigarettes. It asked her, “You smoke cigarettes?”

“Yes.” She answered, her response sounding like a question.

The RK200 politely informed her, “Cigarettes are immensely unhealthy for you. They can take up to eleven years of your life and have been linked to causing Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder, lung disease, heart disease, and even strokes. As a health care companion, I am asking you to stop immediately.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the request. “You aren’t the first person to say that, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

Stepping back into the main area of the house, she looked back to the android. “Last thing: scheduling. You’re also going to set up my father’s doctor appointments, along with our art banquets and other art world needs. But I think that’s it on our list.”

She looked up to his face as the LED set itself to the comfortable, soft blue. And before even thinking about it, she asked, “Is there anything we should know about you? I mean, would you like your own room? How do we perform maintenance on you? Do you need a charging station or anything?”

The machine chuckled softly. _Damn it! How could laughter sound so damn good? How could it have come from a damn fancy computer?_ “I need nothing of the sort. I perform regular self-maintenance check-ups on my operating system, and my batteries are self-sustainable. Seeing as I don’t sleep, I will not need any personal quarters.”

Iris nodded, her eyes focusing on his easily. “Okay. Anything else we should know? Anything to keep you comfortable?”

The RK200 shrugged in its spot. “No comfort needed. I’m an android. I can cook, clean dishes, and take care of animals and young children. I can administer medicine, book appointments, keep you up to date on the news without turning on the tv. I am a handyman that can fix faulty equipment at home without fail. I am also built to be anatomically correct, so I can be used as a sexual partner by my owners.”

_Oh? Oh. Oh dear._

Iris tried to say something along the lines of, “Okay,” but it came out more of a, “Ohhk-lrighty.” _Get the thought out of your head. NOW._

The android added one more thing, his soft green eyes staring thoughtfully out at nothing. “If you would like, I can also be named.”

“Sure, sure.” Iris nodded to him. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Would you like me to check popular names online?”

_Right. It can’t exactly, “think.”_

She said the first name that came to mind. An old friend of her fathers, someone she knew and passed way before his time. “How about Markus?”

The LED flashed yellow in a single beat. “Markus. I like it.”

Iris smiled to him— _it_. “Markus it is. Welcome to your new home.”

* * *

“And I believe that’s checkmate.” Markus grinned.

“God _damn_ it!!” Iris groaned across from him. Carl chuckled happily as he watched the pair. “That’s five in a row! How?!”

Markus couldn’t help but smirk proudly. “You must forget I have downloaded every notable piece of information on chess.”

Iris raised an eyebrow at him accusingly. “Can you uninstall it then? Even the playing field a bit?” She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, glaring at him playfully.

“I could, but I won’t. Then you’ll be mad that I’m going too easy on you. I can’t win in either scenario.”

“Very true, Markus.” Carl clasped at the android’s shoulder. “Ladies are complicated creatures, but no matter what, _you_ are always in the wrong. Easy life lesson.”

“If you wanna be philosophical about it, why don’t you let him kick _your_ ass, dad?” Iris pushed her chair out dramatically. “Take it like a real man.”

“Fine, fine.” Carl laughed. “Watch and learn, little flower.”

Markus had been integrating into their lives for over a month now, and they couldn’t be happier. He made life so much easier, so much smoother than before. Iris could get out of the house more and work on her clay projects alone, and Carl still had good enough company to keep himself busy. Markus was the missing piece in their puzzle; he fit into the mansion like a glove.

A soft beeping from Iris’ phone brought her out of her thoughts, and she grinned as she turned the alarm off. “Whoop whoop! Batch two, sugar cookies, are done! Now onto the chocolate chips.”

“Do you _seriously_ think the animal shelter needs that many cookies?” Carl pointedly asked, concern in his words.

“They’re having a _bake_ sale, aren’t they? Then they need baked goods.” Iris defended. “Besides, the volunteers can eat whatever’s left over. Win win.” She happily strode away from the pair as Markus and her father re-set the chess board by the window, and with practiced ease she pulled the cookie trays out of the oven. She already had a batch of snickerdoodles resting on cooling trays strewn on half the countertop. Grabbing ahold of her spatula, she set the sugar cookies on the next set of cooling trays.

Iris took her time while cooking. There was just… something natural about it. The skill was easy to master growing up. Carl told her that it was something she inherited from her mother, (it had been one of the topics they spoke of in their night together.) Iris wanted to know every detail about it; every cookie, pie, cake, pastry. If it had to be baked, Iris had probably tried it out at least twice. It was the only way she knew to feel close to her mom. And besides, the boys in the next room don’t need her supervision. She could spend as long as she needed in there.

After mixing all-purpose flower, baking powder, flour, and sugar, Iris felt something vibrating in her pocket. _My phone_ , she realized. _Who the hell would be calling?_

Quickly cleaning her hands on a towel, she fished the damn thing out of her pocket and checked the name.

Leo.

Within the second of reading it she answered the call and put the device against her ear. “Hi,” she breathed into the receiver.

“Hey.” Leo said softly on his end. She could hear his smile, even if it was barely there. He was happy, at least a little bit.

“How-how’ve you been?” Iris asked him, staring blankly at the mess of dry ingredients before her. She didn’t know what to say to him.

“I’m-” He took an audible breath. “I’m good. Great, even.”

“Yeah?” Iris asked. “That’s nice to hear. It’s just great to hear your voice. It’s been so long, Leo.” It wasn’t the longest they’ve been without talking. That trophy was at six and a half months. The current stretch was four months.

“I know, I know.” He responded. “Too long. I’m sorry. I just—with dad’s accident, and losing my job, it’s been rough out here.”

“I get it; I hear you. I’m just glad you called, is all.” When she found the ability to move again, Iris set the phone into the crook of her neck and began to beat the wet ingredients together in a separate bowl. Her hands moved slower than before; she would rather hear Leo than bake. Calls from him were like striking gold.

There was a quick stretch of silence before he spoke again. “I got a new job. A moving company, downtown in Toledo. Its good pay and benefits. Let’s me help myself and my mom.”

“How’s Deb doing?”

“Better than before. Much happier now that I’m getting a decent check every couple weeks.”

Iris smiled to herself. “I’m glad you found something worthwhile.” She didn’t want to preach to him; it’s not what he needed. He just needed his baby sister to listen to him.

“Me too.” He waited a beat before adding, “How’s the old man?”

Iris chuckled softly as she put the wet ingredients into the dry and added chocolate chips. “Dad’s doing fine. You should come by one of these days. He misses you.”

“Maybe soon. Can you put him on the phone?”

“I would, but he’s playing chess right now with our new android.”

There was an audible sharp intake on the other line. “No way. You two did _not_ get a fuckin’ android.” Iris’s half-brother wasn’t overly fond of the android uptake in society. Never has been, and most likely never will be. But hopefully he would understand/tolerate why the pair got one.

“Indeed we did.” She nodded curtly before remembering he couldn’t see her. “He’s been a huge help these past couple of weeks around the house. I can finally pee by myself without worrying about dad. Really liberating after a stretch of time. We named him Markus, after dad’s old friend from Boston.” After about a week of trying to call Markus an _it_ , she realized she just couldn’t do it. While he _was_ a machine, he was more than that to her. He was a helping hand, a friend, an ear when she needed to vent. Markus was more than just an android to her and her father.

“Damn. Gotta admit, I’m surprised at you two. I never expected you guys to go the CyberLife side.”

“Well, I’m very happy with Markus around. And besides, he’s cuter to look at than you.”

“I take offense to that.”

The pair laughed heartily, and Iris’s heart zinged. She missed Leo. _So much_. There was never a good time for them to just meet up and chat about their lives. They were pulled in two _very different_ directions after school. Leo started playing around with Red Ice, Iris went to art school. Then Leo’s mom had a seizure and he became pretty much the sole provider for her medication. Sure, dad would send in checks every now and then, but he and Deb weren’t together. They were just like Iris’ mom and him; a one-night stand that added a surprise to Carls’ life. When Iris made it big in the art world, Leo had a measly job in a convenience store. He had lost it at the beginning of the year. Then Carl was in his accident, and that brought them to the present. With the news of Leo getting a new job, Iris was mentally pleading that he finally stopped using.

“’Ree…” Leo started. “I have… I have a huge favor to ask of you.”

Iris flared in anger for a second, her movements stilling and eyes harshly set. _And there it was_ , she thought. _The whole damn reason he called._ She could never _just_ get a call from him. He always needed something.

She sighed heavily, running her fingers through her hair as she asked. “How much?”

“’Bout $450.” He replied sheepishly.

“$450?!” She barked in the receiver. She pulled the phone into her hands, staring it down as she hissed, “What the fuck did you do this time, Leo?!”

He scrambled over his words. “My last dealer is apparently in some shit, so he needs what I owe him in full. Sooner rather than later.” Iris sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of her nose. She attempted to keep her voice quiet when she responded. _Don’t want to get dad and Markus in on this. They can have their fun._

“Leo, this kills me. Every goddamn time.”

“I know, I know.” _No you don’t._ “I’m trying, ‘Ree. Really, I am.” _No you aren’t._

Her hands found themselves wrapping the edge of the countertop, fingers curling over the wood structure tightly as the phone was haphazardly dropped on it. Leo didn’t say anything. Neither did she, for a good long while. Just an irate silence between the pair while the youngest fumed.

When Iris did pick up the phone, she let out an irritated, “I’ll send it later tonight,” into her phone.

She could hear audible relief on his end. “Thank you, Iris. Really. _Thank you._ ”

“Yeah, yeah.” She mentally waved him off. “You’ll thank me by leaving that shit in your past, you hear me? _Please_ , Leo.”

“I’m trying.” He responded. He almost sounded earnest. It was convincing. “Really, I am. It’s been five days.”

She closed her eyes, taking in the information. _Five days. That’s a good start._ “Okay. That’s good. Keep it going.”

“I’m trying. Seriously, Iris. If not for myself, then for my mom. And for dad. And _you_. I promise, this time around I’m gonna be different.”

“Okay.” She repeated. Her heart told her to believe him; her mind said otherwise. It wasn’t the first time he made that promise. Hopefully it’d be the first time he kept it, but history just loves to repeat itself. “I love you.”

“Love you too, ‘Ree.” He said. Then she heard a click, and the line disconnected.

With an audible huff she tossed the phone onto the countertop, a good couple feet away from her baking explosion. Her eyes were shut tight, her face pulled in a deep grimace as she relayed the information in her head. _Hey, Iris. It’s been four months. Yeah, I’m doing good, got a job, need $450, went to the beach. Normal stuff, y’know?_

Iris loved her brother deeply, no matter what. But she was going to slap him silly next time they met face-to-face. It was almost a guarantee.

“-That was an intense game, Carl.” She could hear Markus’ voice trailing down the hallway and coming closer. _Shit._

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re programmed to.” Carl replied cheekily. Iris quickly grabbed her scooper and set a couple halfhearted balls of dough onto her empty cookie sheets, trying to stifle her hands from shaking.

“You are a wonderful opponent, and that’s not something in my programming. I may have won this time, but your actions in the game surprised me.”

“Ah, if they’ve surprised an android, then I must be doing _something_ right!” Soft chuckles ensued before Markus stepped through the kitchen threshold and into view.

“How are the cookies coming along?” He asked Iris simply, a soft smile on his perfect features. Then he took in her slowly fading frown, elevated heart rate, tension, and low cortisol levels. The smile faded into a look of concern. “Are you alright, Iris?”

“Just fine,” she muttered, scooping up more of the dough and slapping it onto the tray with more force than necessary. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Carl rolled in behind Markus, still cheerful. He must not have heard the pair but had picked up on the tension immediately. “What happened?”

Iris opened her mouth to push the topic away, but Markus spoke before her. “Iris’s heart rate is elevated, and her cortisol levels have decreased. She is tense and angry, with no discernable reason why.”

 _Dammit, Markus._ Her father was happy right now; she didn’t want to bother him with Leo’s issues. She glared daggers at the android as Carl asked, “Everything okay, little flower?”

 _Might as well._ “Leo called.”

“And?” His voice was deeper this time. He already knew where this was going.

“And he needed cash. I’m gonna give it to him later. I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Carl’s features dropped, old lines on his face wrinkling in anger more than sadness. He and Iris were used to it. “How much?”

She didn’t want to tell him. “$450.”

“Markus, send the money to Leo Manfred’s savings account at 5:30pm today.” Carl spun his wheelchair around to point at the dining room. “From my account. Not Iris’.”

“Yes, sir.” Markus blinked, his LED flashing yellow quickly. Carl wheeled himself out of the room and out of Iris’ sight, and she could only assume he was heading to the studio to let off some steam.

Her assumptions were proven when she heard the automatic door pulling open for him and the quick burst of air as it shut behind him. Immediately she turned to Markus, nostrils flaring in anger and tone biting. “What the hell was that?!”

His green eyes blinked at her slowly and his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” His hands went behind his back, resting easily as Iris stared at him with a fury in her eyes.

“I _mean_ —” She sighed heavily as she pinched the bridge of her noise. “When I say something like, ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ it means _I probably don’t want to talk about it_. Especially not in front of dad, when I _know_ the news is gonna piss him off.”

The LED continued to blink yellow, and in the moment, Iris wanted to rip the damn thing off his head. _Okay, calm down. He didn’t mean to_. She closed her eyes, taking a slow breath to calm her thoughts. “It’s just that… Leo is a touchy subject. We both love him, but he is a handful at the best of times. This issue was something I could solve by myself. I don’t want to worry my dad about things I can handle. Understand?”

Markus nodded curtly at her. “Of course, Miss Manfred. It won’t happen again.” He pulled his hands to his sides and turned swiftly. “I will go check on him now.”

“Okay.” She nodded. As he took a step just outside the threshold, Iris added, “By the way, it’s Iris. You don’t need to call me Miss Manfred, if you don’t want to. I mean, you can call me whatever.”

Markus gave her a kind smile. _How the hell did Kamski manage to program fifty different types of smiles into this tin can??_ “Iris, then. Of course.”

As soon as he was gone from her vision, she looked back down at the mess in front of her. _Okay, let’s finish up these cookies._


	3. Bake Sale Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Manfreds and Markus decide to volunteer at a bake sale for an animal shelter, and things go swimmingly. Well, they DID, until an anti-android supporter shows up and causes a scene.

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Iris teased her father. The two were standing (well, maybe just Iris,) proudly behind a bake sale table, with only one tray of her peanut butter blossom cookies and sugar cookies left to sell on it.

The sale had gone amazingly, and donations were through the roof for the Michigan Humane Society. Markus and Genevieve (one of the best volunteers from the Society,) had gotten some luck, too, on their table right beside the Manfred’s. Iris was hoping that in the next hour or so the tables would be empty and the group of volunteers could close up shop. The heat was beginning to fester, and they’d been out all morning.

“Oh, wait, I have an even _better_ idea!” Iris pointed to the small corral of kittens by the door of the center. “That little tiger-lookin’ fella has been staring at me _all day_.”

“Iris.” Carl said.

“Dad?” She blinked sweetly.

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon!” She pouted. “I get that we can’t have the puppies,” her voice goes three octaves higher as she looks at the assortment of pit bulls and retrievers that the society currently housed, “ _even though they are so dang sweet and adorable and so lovable.”_ Carl stared at her, unamused with the pouting.

Iris cleared her throat and continued on. “But cats are really easy to care for!”

“The answer is no.”

“All the hard work we’ve done and not one little, itsy bitsy, tiger kitty reward?”

“ _No_!”

Iris huffed, playfully dejected as she stared longingly at the kittens. There weren’t that many, which she was happily surprised with, but she wanted to scoop them up and take them all home. What’s one more mouth to feed? It’s not like they couldn’t handle the costs of a cat.

“How much for the oatmeal raisin?” Iris heard at the table beside hers.

Genevieve answered happily and sold another two baggies full of them before tapping out and heading to the bathroom, leaving Markus by himself to tend for the table. Iris gave him a thumbs up as another customer pulled up. The first one he handled by himself all day.

“Would you mind if I go say hello to my little kitten friend?” Iris asked her father.

He nodded and pulled his wheelchair closer to the table. “Only if you don’t smuggle him out of the corral.”

She rolled her eyes but agreed she wouldn’t, and took a couple quick steps to get to the kitten action.

“Oh, hello beautiful!” She squealed at the kitten, and she graciously picked her up by her middle. She brought the _little, small, precious fur baby_ close to her chest and began to pet her, grinning widely. Iris always was an animal lover, even if she never had any growing up. She would take any kitten time she could get nowadays.

Iris looked up at the board of kittens up for adoption, and mentally corrected. _He_ is a small, precious, fur baby. His name is Horace and she _loved_ him. She checked out the bake sale tables, where generous lines were forming, and held up Horace like Simba from the Lion King at her father. Carl gave a very strong shake of his head, and gestured back to the corral. Iris took a hand and pretended to wipe away tears from her face. _What a bastard_.

“I want to speak to a human.” Flew through Iris’ ears, and she frowned.

“Sorry, Horace,” she whispered sweetly to the kitten, set him back in the corral with his little kitten buddies, and stood.

“I am well-versed in the selling of baked goods, ma’am. Is there a specific flavor you particularly enjoy?”

_Oh, this is going to get ugly_. Iris felt nerves rise, like a rock in her stomach dropping, as she walked over to the bake sale.

“I said I want to speak to someone _real_.” A customer raised her nose at Markus, glasses perched on the edge as she looked down at him. Short blonde hair cropped above her shoulders, slightly turning gray, brown eyes seething at Markus at she waited impatiently. The deep-set frown lines in her skin showed Iris just what kind of person she was. She was the embodiment of the person to ask for a manager at any slight inconvenience. _Or stir up her own trouble, it seems._

“Is there something wrong?” Iris asked cautiously as she sauntered up to the table beside her android friend. Markus’ LED was blinking yellow furiously, trying to understand the situation at hand. Iris rested a hand on Markus’ forearm, just behind the table so the woman couldn’t see and start screaming her head off. _Just to show him he has support._

“Yes, I want to be sold food from a _real person_ , not a hunk of plastic.” She glared at Markus, and Iris’ insides flared in anger.

She tried to keep civil. “Markus is perfectly capable of selling you a cookie. He understands sales well.”

“I don’t want to give my business to filth like it. _Its_ kind is the reason there are so many homeless in the streets. _It_ takes away jobs from hard-working Americans.”

Markus stared hard at the woman, perplexed at her words. Iris pressed her lips in a thin line. It was bound to happen, sure, but she was hoping Markus wouldn’t have to see such anti-android hate in person. Well, they had a good two months without seeing it. Iris would have to count her blessings.

“Ma’am,” Iris said calmly. She would not let this woman get the best of her. “If you do not wish to be served by an android, you should leave. We will not tolerate such backwards thinking.” She looked out to the lines that had slowly become a crowd around the table, and raised her voice. “In fact, if anyone has that same thought—”

“Iris.” Markus muttered softly, and his hand grasped at hers, pulling her away from the people.

Her face was hot, meaning it was probably red with fury. She could feel herself set into a deep frown at the android as he dropped her hand and walked easily to the side of the society’s building. It was only a few steps away, but far enough so the people couldn’t hear the pair. This time, Iris’ true emotion shone through her words as she spat, “What, Markus?”

“I’ll leave.” He said simply. She stared at him, mouth agape. “If the shelter will get better sales without an android present, then I will not be present anymore.”

“Markus,” she started, the name flying quickly. “You don’t have to do that. That musty old bag of farts can leave. There are more people willing to buy from an android.”

“And what if they aren’t enough?” Markus asked. His features wrinkled with worry, as if he was troubled by the situation. He didn’t _want_ to leave, but he would to help Iris and the shelter. He understood how much it meant to her.

He was conflicted. Iris didn’t think androids _could_ feel conflict. It shouldn’t have been in their programming.

“Then _I’ll_ donate the rest.” Iris shrugged with more force than necessary. “I don’t care. I _hate_ their intolerance. The world is changing and these wrinkly suits should, too.”

“Iris.” Markus said calmly. “It’s okay. I’ll go back to the mansion, and wait for you and Carl to return. I’ll clean the studio while I wait.”

Iris huffed like a child. “It’s not _fair_.”

His features softened, as did his voice. “It doesn’t have to be fair. I am an android; I feel no emotion. This situation does not harm me, it harms the shelter more.”

With the way he was speaking, Iris couldn’t tell is he was saying that for _her_ comfort, or for _his_.

“Fine. I’ll see you back home.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Remember that Carl needs to take his medication at four thirty today. Please be home before then.”

_Oh, right, dad._ She forgot he was there. Iris looked over to him and found him selling a couple cookies, though every few seconds he would turn to look at the pair. _Of course he would, he’s out of the loop_. Carl hated being out of the loop. She’d have to fill him in later. “Sure thing.”

And with that, Markus took his leave and walked to the sidewalk, Iris’ eyes trailing him until she couldn’t see him anymore. She took a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and recharged her thoughts.

With her blood pressure evening, Iris walked back up to the table, the horrible woman still there, waiting. The sound of her foot impatiently tapping against the ground almost made Iris scream. But she didn’t; she tried to be better than that.

“How many cookies would you like?”

* * *

“Good turnout today.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Iris hummed softly. As soon as the taxi stopped, she stepped out of her side and stood on the street, her mind wondering.

“Made good money, I heard.” The taxi driver commented. He opened Carl’s side and grabbed the wheelchair from the back, setting it up on the sidewalk for him.

 Carl nodded. “And some of those kittens are going home. Aren’t you glad?”

“Mmhmm.” Iris replied. She and the driver pulled her father from the taxi and eased him into the chair. As soon as her father was situated, she gave the driver cash (plus a little extra for helping her father in and out,) and he was on his merry way.

She lit up a cigarette as her father grasped at the wheels of his chair, the stick dangling from her lips as they began their ascension up the winding path.

“What’s wrong, little flower?” Carl asked her softly. One of Iris’ hands crossed against her chest, grabbing at the bicep on her other as she thought aloud.

She shook her head and grabbed the stick from her mouth. “I just… that lady—”

“I know. That was quite a scene she caused.” He looked up at her, stopping his movements. And for some god-forsaken reason, he smiled at her. “You have such a strong will, Iris. I’m proud of the way you handled her.”

“Dad,” she muttered, puffing at the cigarette. “I was ready to yell at everyone for her intolerance. I was just going to make it worse. I mean,” she shrugged non-committedly, “she deserved it, but still. That could have been handled better.”

Carl shrugged, and began to push at his wheels again. “Maybe. But at your age, I would have caused an even _bigger_ scene than her. I was a loudmouth and I _used_ it, damn it.”

“Oh, you were that guy.” Iris teased lightly, chuckling.

“Yup. I’m an old, wrinkly hag that was _that_ _guy_.”

She knew where she got her humor from. “At least you have a few redeeming qualities.”

The two were in front of the door as Carl asked, “Such as?”

“Well,” Iris gestured to herself, “You helped make me. That makes the world a much nicer place, don’t ya think?” She added a wink at the end for effect.

Carl gave a hearty laugh. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

The alarm for their door chimed, and a robotic voice rang through their ears. “Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Carl Ander Manfred. Welcome home, Iris Wren Manfred.”

The door swung open for them, and Carl zoomed through them easily. Iris stayed behind to finish her cigarette, so she pulled them shut after her father made his way through.

_Okay, maybe just one more,_ she thought. _I deserve it, after the day I’ve had._

Once she finished her _third_ cigarette, she stepped on them, pocketed the butts, and headed inside. Her first mission was the trash in the kitchen. The second mission was her father’s medication in the fridge. Then maybe she’d have a glass of wine and make themselves dinner, and just relax for the rest of the night. She also had the makings of a clay elephant in her kiln. She could check its progress before bed.

Iris grabbed at a specific vial and individually packaged syringe from the fridge with ease, before turning swiftly and almost knocking into Markus’ chest.

“Shit!” She yelped. Markus took a gracious step back, giving her space.

“My apologies.” He said, blinking at her. Then he cocked his head to the side. “You’ve had cigarettes again.”

Iris rolled her eyes, turning her back to him as her fingers worked on the syringe package. “I’m a smoker. I smoke them.”

“Miss Manfred,” he started and grabbed at the vial, opening it quickly for her. “I have stated before, cigarettes are immensely bad for your health.”

“You sound like my father.” She tried to tease, but her voice fell flat. Her hands worked at the plunger of the syringe, filling up the middle quickly with Carl’s’ evening dosage. “We all have our vices.”

“Such as?” Markus asked, sounding curious. Iris handed him the syringe and the pair walked together to the stairs. Markus must have put him in his room while she was outside.

“Well, my brother likes Red Ice. Loves it, actually. Then you have me, who can’t go a day without my cigarettes. And dad? He used to be an alcoholic.” Iris sighed, staring up at the steps. “Fuck genetics. We were doomed from the start.”

“Why don’t you quit?” Markus looked over to her. She took a few steps up the stairs, letting her hand crawl up the railing. “Your father did. You can, too.”

She shrugged. “I’ve tried before. Sometimes the need is just too strong. Like today. After little miss, ‘fuck androids,’ I just needed a break from everything. They help clear my head when I can’t think straight.”

The two finished their ascension in silence, only the pounding of their feet ringing through the mansion. At the top, Iris could hear the sound of the tv on in her father’s room, an older movie playing with the volume up high so Carl could tune out the world.

“By the way,” Iris looked over to Markus, and they stopped moving. “I didn’t like you leaving the fundraiser today.”

Markus nodded. “It was an unpleasant situation. I took what was deemed the best course of action from my software. I hope the sales continued after my absence?”

“Yes, but that wasn’t really necessary, Markus. I don’t think I would do it again.”

“Then I hope there isn’t another situation like that.”

“Me too.” Iris agreed with a soft nod. And she added, “But if it does happen again, I don’t want you to leave. You did nothing wrong; you shouldn’t have to be so compliant.”

“I am always compliant. I’m meant to make your life simpler, not more difficult. It would have been troublesome to stay.”

“Maybe so.” Iris thought about it; those people will never change. They can’t handle the new and improved, so they draw the line in the sand and complain to the high heavens. No matter what Markus did—sell cookies, help her father across the street; hell, even just washing _dishes_ —someone would be there to complain. And while it made Iris’ blood boil, Markus was probably right. It’s easier to walk away and avoid further conflict than to give these assholes something to complain about.

So, Iris would just have to move on. Tonight, she’ll have a glass of wine and relax, and that will be that.

“It’s four thirty, Iris. Time for Carls’ medication.” Markus began to walk swiftly, and she followed suit. _Just let today go._

* * *

“Hell _yes_! He’s _perfect_!” Iris exclaimed to herself. She spun the small, un-glazed clay elephant in her hands gingerly, making sure there were no imperfections in sight. _Absolutely_ _none_. Not a scratch, not a dent. And he held his shape perfectly.

“I take it little Dumbo came out okay?” Carl asked her. He was hard at work in his mechanical chair, about seven feet in the air with an easel in hand and purple paint splattered on the _ginormous_ who-even-knows-what-dimensions-it-is canvas along the wall of their studio.

“Yes!” She squealed happily, and held up the elephant out to him so he could take a better look. “I mean, his ears are regular _ephelant_ size, but look at this _cute little fella_!”

Markus blinked by the door, looking to the pair from his spot. “I believe the term is elephant, not _ephelant_ , Iris.”

Iris and Carl both laughed knowingly at that. Iris set the clay beauty on the table and began to explain, “I know, Markus. It’s just that—”

“When she was little,” Carl interrupted, a smile of nostalgia gracing his face. “She couldn’t pronounce _elephant_ correctly. I got ephelant every time I asked what type of animal they were out of a book, or on the television, so—”

“When I finally could pronounce elephant correctly, dad was actually _sad_ I figured it out.”

Carl laughed even more, staring down to her from his chair. “It was too damn cute. So ephelant stayed. A little family joke between the two of us.”

“I see.” Markus’ LED spun in yellow for a moment, and Iris watched easily, her smile still on her face from remembering the ephelant mayhem she caused in preschool. Then Markus asked, “Leo didn’t participate in the… ephelant joke?”

The smile dropped from Iris’ face, and Carl looked down at his easel. Markus immediately felt the shift in the Manfred’s moods, the cortisol levels in the room shifting downward.

“Well…” Iris started softly. “Leo didn’t exactly… grow up with us.”

If Markus could feel regret, that’s what would be coursing through his system. He didn’t want to upset the two, _shouldn’t_ have upset the two. He was supposed to keep the pair happy. Then Markus’s system told him that, since he was taking care of them, he should know more about their history. An automatic override, even though he would rather let the thought go.

To match the somber mood, his voice level was set lower than normal as he continued. “Why?”

Carl spoke for the pair. “I was a shitty father, Markus. Leo grew up with his mother, not me. She wanted to keep him. And at the time, I was a young, hot-shot artist. I didn’t want any responsibilities tying me down. So I just paid child support for him.”

“Then he met my mom.” Iris took over the story. “And when mom was pregnant, she didn’t tell him. Not until I was born. Mom died barely an hour after giving birth to me.”

“And while I _was_ young and traveling the world, I couldn’t have her put in the foster system. I couldn’t have that on my conscience. I took her in, and settled down, right here in Detroit. We’ve been in this mansion for _years_.”

Iris jerked her thumb at the door of the studio. “There’s still little drawings on the wall from when I went loose with a couple crayons.”

Markus was glad to see the edge of Carl’s lip quirk up; the beginnings of a soft smile. “I was pissed when you started doodling. Then I thought, ‘Hell, maybe painting IS a genetic trait.’ You went with it, for a bit. Making little scenes and trees, hyper-realistic. Then you went straight to ceramics in high school and never looked back.”

“Sorry, dad. I can’t make a Picasso, but I can make a _mean_ ephelant.” Iris stood proudly with her small elephant in hand, her fingers cradling it.

“That you can, my dear.”


	4. The Hunt for Alizarin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Carl wakes up in the middle of the night with a medical emergency, Iris has to face the fact that he might not make it back home. Markus tries to help her by keeping her busy working on the ephelant and a quick trip into Detroit.

The sun was barely shining through the sky when Iris went down to the kitchen. The trees outside, lightly turning deep shades of red and orange, couldn’t stop the gentle rays of the sun from reaching her brown orbs.

She was hardly awake. She didn’t exactly _want_ to be. Carl woke at two in the morning, complaining— _whimpering_ —about a pain in his chest. It was like he was in so much pain that he couldn’t speak properly. Markus immediately called for an ambulance, and they took him to the nearest hospital. Carl told her and Markus not to bother coming. If anything was wrong the call goes straight to Markus’ system anyway.

“Go back to sleep,” her father said. Like it’s that easy.

So here she was, at four in the morning, in her pj’s that consist of short shorts and a tee, her hair up in the messiest bun imaginable, chain-smoking like her life depended on it on the breakfast nook. She hadn’t moved in about an hour.

_I should_ , Iris kept telling herself. Her knees were starting to burn from being bent on the edge of the windowsill. But still, she just couldn’t bring herself to stand and actually _move_.

_Another cigarette it is, then_.

As she put the butt in her mouth and flicked her lighter, she looked over to the doorway where she could see movement. Markus. Iris took a small puff, lolling her head back so it could rest against the wall. Her eyes closed softly, waiting. Just waiting for something to happen.

Markus looked to her form, a messy contrast against the clean interior of her sacred space. His system scanned her and told him that she was feeling: A.) uneasy; B.) a heightened sense of anxiety; C.) worry; And d.) tension.

He didn’t need any sensors to tell him that.

He flipped through his choices quickly, hoping to alleviate her tension in _some_ way. She wouldn’t be able to rest again. The two hours and thirteen minutes of sleep she got would not be enough for the whole day, but with her heightened emotions, it would do her no good to stew in it. She would be restless.

Markus decided quickly, taking the easier choice.

His arm grabbed at the refrigerator door and he grabbed two eggs, butter, cheddar cheese, ham, and spinach. Iris opened an eye at the noise, then furrowed her brow at him. Truth be told, she couldn’t muster up the energy to speak, so she closed her eyes again and put the cigarette back up to her lips.

Markus grabbed a frying pan hanging above the stovetop and set it gently on the bottom left burner and set the flame to a medium heat. He then grabbed a knife, fork, and plate and cut a small slice of butter onto the pan. Iris listened to the soft sizzle of the butter melting, and her frown of confusion softened.

The android continued his ministrations quietly, the sounds coming only from the pan itself as he cracked the eggs and tossed in the ingredients for Iris’ omelette. She opened her eyes and stared out, fixated on a browning leaf that drifted to the pavement of the mansion’s driveway. Iris hated how peaceful the outside world could look while she stewed in her warbled mix of emotions. The wind blowed through leaves, calm, and here she was at her nook, puffing away with a hole in her chest. Iris only brought her attention back inside to Markus when he set the omelette gently down beside her with a fork.

“Thank you.” She managed.

Markus nodded softly. “My pleasure.” And he waited a beat before adding, “How are you feeling?”

She laughed hoarsely. “How do you think?” She shook her head, and smushed the rest of her cigarette out. “He tells me not to worry like it’s a switch in my brain.”

“He’s worried about you just as you are about him.” He told her. In a split-second decision he decided to rest beside her on the nook, taking little space so she could eat.

“I know. It’s almost like we love each other or something.” Iris smiled softly to herself. She grabbed the plate and cut a bit of her ham, cheese, and spinach omelette onto her fork. “I’m kind of dreading the call. I want to know, but I _don’t_ want to know, y’know?”

Markus chuckled softly. “Confliction is normal in a time of worry.”

Iris nodded and readjusted her seat, dropping her legs off the nook so she could sit properly next to him as she devoured over half of her omelette in silence. “Are you? Worried?”

“Of course. I care for Carl. And for your mental health. You two are… symbiotic.”

“It’s always been the two us.” She confessed. “My whole life, it’s been him and me. Everyone comes and goes eventually. Friends, boyfriends, girlfriends. _Leo_ , and his mother. But not dad. Even on his worst days, he was there for me.” She brought another forkful of egg up to her mouth, but couldn’t take the bite. Her arm drooped, and her voice softened to a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t want to say goodbye yet.” She set the plate beside her cigarette pack, silent as she stewed in her sorrow.

Iris tried to keep her voice level, tried to stay calm, but it wavered and a fucking _tear_ escaped her eye. “I know it’s gonna happen one day. It happens to everyone. But still, he’s my rock and I’m his and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t…” She hiccupped and palmed away the wave of tears that managed to spill. _Damn her emotions. Damn them all to **hell**. _“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to let this all out on you.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” Markus said softly. Gently, he brought his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and resting his thumb just underneath her eye and wiped some of the wetness away. His touch lingered as he murmured, “Never apologize for feeling things so strongly. I find it one of your greatest traits.”

Iris let out a weak smile, meeting his eyes. “You think so?”

He brushed his thumb a second time, and a third before nodding. “It’s what makes you human. You feel emotions that I can only imagine. I’ll never cry over worry, never feel joy at making a sculpture,” Markus closed his eyes as he continued. “Never feel love.”

“You sound jealous.” Iris noted. Her tears had begun to stop as her breathing evened, and she was immensely thankful for Markus’ company.

“If I could feel jealousy, I would.” He shrugged, pulling his hand away. Iris immediately felt lonely at the loss of him against her. “I feel nothing. I just… _am_.”

Iris’ lip quirked upward, and she scooted closer to him. “That may be what you’re programmed to say, but I don’t think that’s the truth.” Her gaze lingered on his as he frowned at her. Iris’ smile grew at his confusion and, relaxing, she rested his head against his shoulder. “There’s more to you than just blue blood and wires, Markus.”

His mouth let out a sigh at the contact. Though she couldn’t see it, Iris could imagine his soft green eyes shutting at the warmth that spread through his system. **_That_** _wasn’t in his programming_.

“It’s not possible. I am a machine.”

_Who are you trying to convince?_

“Whatever you say, Markus.”

* * *

It was six o’clock when Iris decided to try and get _something_ done with her day while she waited. She wouldn’t make any cookies—she was all cookied out from the bake sale a couple months ago—and truth be told she didn’t want to try making anything new. Baking makes her feel close to her mother. At this moment, she wanted to feel close to Carl. So, she set up shop in the studio, getting ready to make a clay _whatever_ while Markus kept her company.

“Hmm, let’s see.” Iris hummed softly to herself. She searched through her assortment of clays, colored glazes, and already made designs, her mind wandering to figure out what she wanted to busy herself with. She had a couple small pots in the kiln, but those would take until noon to be finished, and another two days until it was ready for a glaze. Her little elephant was still in her un-glazed to-do shelf, right next to two cups and a funky winding vase.

“Vase, or ephelant?” Iris called over shoulder.

Markus answered, “Ephelant.”

She let out a soft laugh as she grabbed the elephant off the shelf and set him on a table. Her fingers worked at a couple newspapers, opening the bundle and spreading them out over the top. Then her next stop was to her shelf of colored glazes.

“What color? Or colors?”

Markus answered quickly. “Elephants are naturally gray.”

“Well, _yeah_ , but it’s just a clay sculpture. It doesn’t need to be realistic.” Iris gestured over to him, beckoning him over to the shelf. “I _could_ do gray, I have a couple shades of that, but how does that stand out against the other elephants? How does mine stand out in a crowd against another artist’s?”

Iris could hear Markus behind her as she continued, “Each piece my father and I design are unique. They make us feel something. Happiness, curiosity, grief, wonder. How can I make that with just gray where people would assume it?”

When Markus was beside her Iris pointed out at the colors, a wide assortment that she was proud of. “What would you normally paint it, then? Orange?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But orange won’t make me feel anything with this piece.” She chose her favorite colored glazes first, phthalo blue and cadmium yellow. The two worked together well, and the soft green it made when mixed was pretty.

“Phthalo green, too?” Iris asked aloud. Then she nodded to herself. “Phthalo green, too.”

Her eyes wandered over to her father’s station, unused, and she felt a stake in her chest. “I should use his favorite color, too.”

A little nostalgic piece. Just for the two of them.

Iris moved a couple bottles around, checking the labels for Carl’s favorite, alizarin crimson. He loved the soft, passionate red when it was swirled along a canvas. And when Iris mixed it with phthalo blue? The violet was striking.

Except, where was her alizarin?

“Markus,” his name sounded like a question. “Do you see any alizarin crimson?”

He looked over the shelf and scanned all the bottles in less than ten seconds. “No. You have two batches of titanium white and half a bottle of Indian yellow, though.”

“Shit.” She muttered. “I must’ve not ordered it last time around.” Iris checked the clock against the wall connecting the studio to the house. Six thirty. “Amaro’s Pottery opens at eight. I should try to pop by and see if they have any in stock.”

Markus’ LED swirled in yellow as Iris set the other three glazes onto the table beside her precious ephelant. “They do. They have three bottles of it.”

Iris fist pumped a hand in the air. “Yes! We’ll pop by first thing. I should get ready for the day, then. Put on some Serious Adult clothes.” She shrugged to herself. “And shower, probably. Want to walk in to town?”

“The fresh air may do you some good.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be back.”

* * *

By the time she put on some black yoga pants, a pale blue long-sleeved shirt, and some black flats Iris was ready to head into town.

Well, almost ready.

She looked at her small jewelry box on her dresser and she found her hand opening the wooden top. The first necklace she saw she put on. It was a gift from her father when she turned eighteen. It was diamonds, _all_ of it was diamonds. They were small in the back, and gained size as it came forward. It shaped down to a V in the front, with the biggest diamond at the base. Carl never told her how much it cost. Iris thought he was crazy when she got it, but her told her not to worry. “It shines as bright as your eyes,” so no matter the price, he just _had_ to get it.

Maybe he would never get the chance to tell her now.

_Stop that_ , she chided. For all she knew he just had heartburn and they were keeping him for observation. With the hopeful thought in mind, Iris trotted down the stairs and she and Markus made her way down to Detroit. The Manfred’s didn’t live too close to the city so it was quite a trek.

The walk was long in the brisk air. It was only the second week in October but the air was chilly enough for Iris to wish she had a scarf on. She was happy for the change in pace, though. Complaining about the air hurting her face was a welcoming whine compared to her last couple hours.

The pair were lucky enough to reach the square with Amaro’s Pottery and Bellini Paints at a little past nine. It was quiet, slowly being populated by the locals. The food trucks that were normally set up weren’t in place yet, except for a churro one.

_Mmmm, churros._

Iris’ stomach betrayed her, portraying her thoughts with a grumble. She looked up to Markus apologetically. “I had pre-breakfast at four.”

“Would you like a churro?” Markus asked, teasing.

Iris pressed her lips together, sucking them inward as she looked down. “… Maybe…”

Markus jerked his head over. “You go get a churro, then. I’ll head down to the shop. How many bottles would you like?”

“One would be fine, but two is ideal.”

“Two it is. I’ll meet you outside the shop when you’re done?”

Iris gave an affirmative nod and grinned when Markus walked past her. _Churros. Delicious, warm, cinnamon-filled churros._

She sauntered up to the stand and ordered not one, but _two_ , large churros. Iris kept to herself as she munched happily on one walking down the street, savoring the sweet taste. She couldn’t remember the last time she had one. Maybe this dessert would be next on her list of things to try and make.

Iris worked through the list of ingredients in her head as she passed Bellini’s Paints. Right in between Bellini and Amaro was a small alleyway, with a dead end and only a dumpster for the shops to share, where she pulled into and rested her back against the wall of Bellini’s Paints. She brought the second churro up to her mouth, the word, “ _Cinnamon_!” flying in her head. Markus shouldn’t be too long now. It only takes a second for android transactions to take; her account was connected to his system. With a blink of his eye the money would be transferred and all set.

“That’s a pretty necklace you got there.”

Iris whipped her head in to the alleyway, furrowing her brows as she searched for the maker of the sentence. It wasn’t Markus, that’s for sure. And certainly not the Amaro android. No, it came from someone behind the dumpster, standing now so she could barely see his hunched form. He was an older gentleman; graying hair that was shaggy, dirty rags that couldn’t have protected him against the cold October air, and dirt and grime covering him like it was a layer of skin. _Homeless._

“Thank you.” Iris said, eyeing him cautiously. She took another bite of her churro, waiting to hear the chime of Amaro’s bell, waiting until Markus came back and she and him could leave. She should have known that there would be homeless people out here. Of course she _knew_ , she just hadn’t _seen_ them.

“How much is it?” He asked. His voice was gravelly and heavy, a stark contrast from Iris’. He took soft, slow steps as her eyes met his.

“It was a gift from my father.” Iris kept her voice level. Her back straightened against the wall as he got closer. She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart as she added, “It’s not for sale.”

The stranger grinned maliciously. “I never asked if it was.” Then he was in front her, his hand close to her neck as he flicked a small knife open in front of her.

Iris’ eyes widened in fear, and she could hear her heart thumping in her ears. The remains of her churro fell to the ground as she took a step to the right, closer to the street. Her movements weren’t fast enough, and the stranger’s other hand grabbed roughly at her shoulder, pushing her back into place against the wall.

“Let. Me. Go.” Iris muttered through clenched teeth. The man must have done this before, she noted, because he wasn’t nervous in the slightest. It was like a dance to him as he brought the tip of the knife underneath the necklace, pushing it upward to himself so he could get a better look at it.

“Now, why would I do that, when I could just,” he tugged at the necklace dangerously, almost to the point where it would break. “You know how much this damn thing could get me? People pay big money for diamonds a this size.”

“Please just leave it alone.” She begged. She hated how small her voice sounded. She _never_ begged. “I’ll give you money, I don’t care, just leave it, _please_.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The stranger drawled, gripping her arm even tighter. He squeaked his voice as if to mimic Iris, “ _Daddy got me the necklace and it means the world to me! I’m rich and have fifty identical ones at home but please don’t touch this one!”_ He rolled his eyes at her pathetic stance. “Please, sweetheart. Just give me the rocks and I let ya go in one piece. Capiche?”

“You will let her go. And she will be keeping the necklace.”

_Oh, thank god._

Markus was at the opening of the alleyway, a hand holding her bag of alizarin crimson glaze. His LED was set swirling in red as he stared between Iris and the man. She’d never seen it in that color before. It was _terrifying_.

But still, Iris grinned. Androids can automatically send distress messages to the police, like a switch going off in their mechanical brains if they see any illegal or harmful activities, should their owners set them up. And of course she and her father did. _This man will be **fucked** in about a minute or two. _

“Get lost, tin can.” The thief roared at Markus, releasing Iris’ shoulder to swat at the air between them like he was swatting away a pesky fly. Markus’ LED flashed in yellow for a moment before returning back to red. His hand set the bag to the ground. And he took a gracious step forward. “Didn’t ya hear me, terminator? Get the fuck away.”

Iris looked back to the man in front of her, smirking proudly. “He’s not your android. He doesn’t take orders from you.”

The man’s frowned in confusion, and Iris took a second of faith to grab his wrist, fling it downward and to the side so the knife was flung away from the stranger’s hand, and she rushed her steps backward so there was a generous amount of space between her and him.

In the same moment, Markus marched right up to the thief, pushing his forearm straight onto the man’s collarbone and up against the same spot where Iris was standing just seconds ago. The asshole pushed against Markus—even going as far as punching him in the face, which did _not_ work (he did realize what material androids were made out of?)—before just slumping against the wall in defeat.

“Don’t you _ever_. Touch her. _Again_.” Markus gritted, his LED still flashing in red.

“Oh, bite me, RoboCop.” The stranger spat. “You only care ‘cuz she’s the name on your contract.”

Not even a second passed when Markus punched at the wall beside the stranger’s head, the brick crumbling in the single spot. The thief jerked his head away from the dust of broken brick, coughing haphazardly. _No idiotic remark this time_. Iris yelped, covering her mouth with her hands at the unfiltered _anger_ coming from her android. Markus continued pushing his arm further into the man, blocking him from taking a breath of air, and Iris’ worry jumped into her throat.

She had _never_ seen this from him before. And while she appreciated the swift response, she was hoping to never see it again. _Markus was going to kill him if he didn’t stop_.

“Markus.” Iris spoke softly. The ringing of the police car could be heard; it was close. “Please, let him go.”

The LED wavered in color. The red spun once and yellow overtook. _Good_. Markus dropped his hand from the man’s collarbone, bringing it to his side mechanically.

The thief took a great gulp of air, his arms immediately going to his throat to soothe himself.

“Take another step back from him.” Iris hated talking to him like this. Like a _machine_ , simply taking orders. Markus obliged; one step back. “Now pick up the bag from Amaro’s Pottery.”

Markus turned from the man and took slow steps to get to the bag. One hand dropped to pick it up. Iris internally sighed as the LED was in its soft blue again. _Just like normal._

The police car pulled over in front of the store as Iris walked next to her android. The response was so fast it was a blur. The policemen cuffed the wannabe-thief, Iris relayed a statement, and then Markus did. She was sure this would land on the news in a matter of minutes. _Famous Sculpture Almost Gets Mugged in Detroit: Protected by Father’s Android._ Iris was hoping her father wouldn’t find out until he was back to normal. _If_ he gets back to normal.

Iris figured that she had enough excitement for one day (even though it wasn’t even _noon_ ,) and decided to grab the bus instead of trekking back in the cold. While her adrenaline was still pumping and she was warmer than expected, she couldn’t muster enough energy for that long a walk. So, here she and Markus waited, her sitting on the bench as he stood by her side, still holding the bag of glaze.

“I can take that.” Iris said softly. “And you can sit down, if you’d like.” There was no one near them so he had plenty of room to relax. Her hand played with the jewels on her neck, thankful they were still _there_ and in one piece.

“Are you going to command me to?” Markus asked bitterly. His grip on the bag tightened, like he didn’t want to let it go.

She frowned and looked down to her feet, her flats kicking into the soft grass and leaves below her. “I didn’t want to. You were going to _kill_ him.”

“No; I was holding him until proper emergency personnel came by. I was simply making his time unpleasant.”

“Well _I_ didn’t know that.” She stared up at him hard. _Was he really justifying his response?_ “All I know was you were angry and he couldn’t breathe. And while he was an _asshole_ who I’m glad will be doing time in a jail cell, the look in your eyes was terrifying. I didn’t know what you were capable of in that moment.”

“I was no such thing. I can’t _get_ angry.”

Iris raised an eyebrow at him, her arms crossing against her chest. “Really, now? The brick wall you did in may have some qualms about that statement.”

“He was hurting you, alright?” Markus deflected. “My protocol kicked in and I made sure you were safe.”

“Whatever you say, Markus.” Iris resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her voice softened as she added, “Either way, thank you. I’m glad I have you.”

He nodded softly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Iris noticed the mistake right away. _Glad? I thought you couldn’t **feel** glad_, she inwardly teased. But she didn’t bring it up; there was enough fighting and debates today already.

She checked the time on her phone. The bus would be there any minute. Which was good; all she wanted was the comfort of her own home and kitchen and studio.

The next time Iris looked up at Markus his LED was flashing in yellow. She furrowed her brow. It was a couple of minutes before he spoke again. “Good news.” He took a seat beside her before continuing. “Your father is resting. They discovered a clogged artery in his heart with a CT scan and they are rushing to give him a stent when there’s an open slot in the surgical unit. He will need more prescriptions and a new restrictive diet afterwards, but he should be okay. Full recovery expected.”

Iris sighed happily. “ _Thank god_.”

The bus rolled up to the seats and the pair stood. “He will be taking visitors after his surgery today. The doctor said to expect him to be groggy, but he should be responsive.”

Iris grinned at him. “Then I know what we’re gonna do later today.”

“Of course. He’ll be happy to have you by his side.”

She stepped up to the front of the bus when the doors opened with her eyes searching for two open seats, and she turned around to see if Markus was following her. He wasn’t.

_Right. Android. Androids go to the back of the bus._

Her heart dropped just a tad when she realized she would be sitting alone. Iris could see his figure as he stood in between an AX400 and an PL600 through the glass, and she stopped moving forward. Her feet twisted so she walked to the back of the bus, as close enough as she could to him. The seat right beside the glass was occupied by a mother and son duo, so Iris stood, her arm holding the pole when the bus began moving. _If only they could stay together._

One day, maybe.


	5. There's a Cat in My Living Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris wants to make everything absolutely perfect for Carl's return from the hospital, from a clean mansion, to a simple homecooked meal. In all the fuss, she finds herself feeling certain emotions around her android; feelings she knew she shouldn't be having. And she gets two unexpected surprises.

_Today’s the day!_

Carl will be home and healthy at four pm later that evening, and Iris was overjoyed. After over a week of living alone in the mansion with Markus, she was so happy that her dad would be there with them. Even though there were two, the mansion still felt too empty. She tried calling Leo to see if he would visit and welcome the, “old man,” home, but she never got a response back.

She hoped what she was expecting wasn’t true.

Either way, Iris was flitting around the house, cleaning up every speck of dust and fixing every frame to be just right for her father’s return later that evening.

“That’s my job, you know.” Markus told her. He found her in the living room, dusting the television at three, haphazardly wiping the surface down. He took the duster from her easily as she grinned.

“Sorry. Just nervous. I want everything to be _perfect_ for tonight. He deserves it, y’know?”

“I know.” Markus nodded. “Why don’t you figure out what you’ll make him for dinner?”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that! _Groceries_!!” She squealed. The fridge was almost empty. “I need to get to the store! Oh, shit, what’s his favorite meal? _I forgot his favorite meal_!”

“Iris.” Markus brought his hands to her shoulders, forcing her to calm down and look at him. “ _Breathe_. He’ll eat anything you put in front of him. Though his favorite is chicken alfredo with broccoli.”

“Chicken alfredo with broccoli.” Iris repeated, and she took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do that.” She nodded to him. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” Markus answered, releasing her. “We're out of spaghetti and alfredo sauce, so you may have to improvise.”

She headed over to the fridge quickly and checked the components. _Damn it_. “You’re right, of course. I could head to the grocery store real quick?”

“You won’t have enough time to grab him from the hospital.” Markus informed her. “If you’d like, you could head to the grocery store and I’ll grab him from the hospital? Then when he comes home we can sit down and you two could have a welcome back meal.”

Iris relayed the idea in her head as she swung the fridge door close, her hand still on the handle. And she cocked her head to the side, thinking. _That could work_. “That’s a good idea, actually.”

“Actually? My ideas are _always_ good.”

Iris could hear the snark in his voice, and she let out a soft laugh. “85 percent of the time.”

“ _90_ percent of the time.”

“89 percent. Highest I can go, Markus.”

“Fine, but you’re wrong.”

Iris couldn’t hold back the belly laugh from escaping. “You are such a shit. When did you become such a shit?”

Markus followed her to the kitchen, smirking down to her as he sauntered up to the fridge. His hand rested against the counter next to himself, just an inch of space between the pair. “Since living with you two. I’ve _adapted_ to the dry Manfred humor.”

“Well,” Iris took her hand from the fridge and pressed her finger to his chest. “I,” she poked him again. “Kind of.” Another poke. “Like it.” She gave him a teasing smirk, this time allowing her hand to rest against his firm form. “Just goes to show we can convert _anyone_ to being annoying pains in the asses.”

“Evidently so.” Markus looked down to her, smirking right back down to her, green eyes teasingly gleaming in a striking emerald. His hand crawled up, wrapping around hers against his chest in a sweet, domestic gesture.

_Shit_ , Iris thought. She felt butterflies in her stomach, her heart rate speeding in her chest, and she thought, _he’d notice. He can notice **everything**. Stop._

“Iris?” He asked her.

_Knew it_ , she thought. She closed her eyes. “Yes?”

“Your heart rate is elevated.” It sounded like a question.

“Yes.” _Glad your scanners still work_.

She leaned her head down to his chest level, her eyes still closed as she listened to him. _God forbid he take note of her dilated pupils_. She would melt in her spot in embarrassment.  “Everything okay?”

She pulled her hand out of his, trying to control her thoughts. “Just fine. Nerves, and all.” Iris flicked her head to the door and her steps were quick. “I’m gonna head out. See you when I get back.”

Markus watched her as she flew out the door, frowning. “Of course.”

_What just happened?_ Iris wasn’t normally that abrupt, but Markus’ system chalked it up to the festivities of bringing Carl home. _Of course_ , _her father_. Not _him_. Couldn’t be.

* * *

Iris hummed softly to herself, reusable bags filled with groceries in hand. The taxi she took dropped her off by the pathway in front of her house at exactly four thirty; Carl and Markus would be home by now. She was almost dreading her return.

Her father? A great joy. Markus? Well, _shit_.

Iris knew she shouldn’t be having thoughts like that. Thoughts of how nice his voice sounded, how mischievous he could be. How he would protect her at any costs and how he cared for the one thing Iris loved more than she loved herself. How he was almost perfect in every way. Even when they first met Iris was attracted to him; that was only physically. Now she knew how kind he could be—how caring and silly and teasing. Iris considered him a good friend.

He was an _android_. An _it_. What Iris wanted she could never have with him.

Iris tried to shake her head of the thoughts of Markus. He was their companion; nothing more. Even if she wanted to, if she wanted _him_ , if wouldn’t be real. He’d go with _anything_ she asked because he’s programmed to make their life easier and enjoyable.

She’d just have to stop. Stop caring so much about him. Android-human relationships could never work. So, that was Iris’ only option. _Stop._ _Caring._ _About. Markus_.

_Easier said than done_ , she thought.

She trekked her way up the path, groceries in both hands as she sung lightly under her breath. The door opened widely, she pulled through, and it swung shut behind her. There was no noise in the house besides the echo of the door. Iris raised an eyebrow. _Unusual_. Maybe her father was in bed, or in the studio? Markus would have accompanied him; could that be why it was so quiet?

Iris pulled into the kitchen and set the bags on the table, her mind running through different scenarios as to where her boys were. Bed, studio, maybe for a walk in the park? Her nimble fingers worked quickly on the food, leaving some on the countertop for dinner and setting the rest in their respective places for future use.

Then she heard it.

“ _Meow_.”

It was so soft that Iris almost didn’t catch it. Her head shot up from the bag she was working on to check out the noise; _a noise that did **not** belong in her house_. Her feet lead her into the living room, where a decent-sized opened cardboard box was resting on the floor. Markus was by the studio door, sitting on the piano bench, fingers ghosting over the keys as he replayed a stanza in his head.

Iris pulled up quickly in front of the box and inside was an old blanket, a small bowl of water, and a _freaking black kitten_. It was so small that its eyes weren’t even open; it couldn’t have been more than two weeks old, _if that_. She took note of a small patch of white on one of its front paws; the only contrast of color on the whole kitten body. Iris muttered the first thing she thought aloud, so softly it was more like a whisper to herself.

“What the fuck.”

She looked over to Markus, who looked back to her, who looked back to the box.

“Markus.” It sounded like a question.

“Yes?” He answered, as if this was like a normal everyday occurrence.

“There’s a cat in the living room.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“There’s a _cat_. In the _living_ _room_.”

“My answer remains the same.” Markus stood from the bench, walking over to her form as her eyes widened at the feline, fast asleep in the little blanket.

“ _Why is there a fucking cat in the living room_?!”

He chuckled at the confused, yet enthusiastic response from the young Manfred, and he knelt down to gently pet the kitten’s head. “Well,” Markus started, his eyes focused on the little body that could practically fit into a single hand, “Your father was feeling rather excited after leaving the hospital, so we took a bus that let us out about a half an hour’s walk from the mansion. As we checked out the park area, we found this little guy hiding in the bushes.”

Iris watched the little kitten stretch out into the palm of Markus’ hand as her heart jumped in her chest. _So. Stinking. Cute_. “My dad doesn’t like cats.”

“Do you think Carl is the type of person to leave a helpless kitten in the park, right before winter?” Markus asked, looking up to her.

“I guess not.”

“Evidently so.” His hand reached around the small black kitten, so gently as to not hurt the little fella. “I’ve scanned him for parasites and there are none. No fleas, ticks, worms, not even an ant on him.” The _cutest little kitten Iris has ever seen_ stretched out a paw into Markus’ hand as Markus swooped him up fully into his palm. “His dietary fulfillment seems to be lacking, but he’s healthy enough that he’s kept up his body heat.”

Markus softly brought the kitten over to Iris, and she held her hands out for the obvious change. As he set the kitten onto her palms he continued, “I’ve already set an order for cat food. It’ll be here at five thirty.”

“Okay.” Iris said softly. Her eyes were trained on the little kitten in her hands; the fur was so soft, so gentle. _Oh my goodness a **sweet** baby kitten_. “How long do we get to keep him?” Knowing her dad, he wouldn’t want to keep the kitten for too long. Maybe until someone adopted him?

“Your father said that the second he is healthy enough we’ll put in a transfer for another foster or adopter. I had the thought that the Humane Society would most likely take him if Carl was unsatisfied with the impromptu fostering.” Markus answered, watching her eyes light up as she pressed the tip of her finger onto the pad of a paw, and the littlest claws pressed out.

“Oh, _what a little monster_!” She squeaked out. “ _The cutest, little, most vicious little monster I’ve ever seen_!!”

Markus laughed softly at her obvious enjoyment. “I knew you’d like him.”

“What? Me?” Iris brought the cat up to Markus’ eye level. “Like _this_ little face?”

She brought the kitten back down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He chittered softly in response, curling up tighter in her hands. “ _Never_.”

“You do a good job of faking it, then.” Markus teased.

As Iris held the little kitten close to her chest, she asked, “Speaking of, where is my dad?”

“In the studio, already working on a new painting.”

“Good.” She smiled. The creative juices were surely flowing, then. “I’ll go say hi.”

She knelt down to the ground, careful as she set the kitten back into the middle of the blanket. Iris ran a finger along his front paw with the splotch of white, murmuring softly, “Good night, little monster.”

She stood up softly, her eyes focusing on the cat as her knees straightened out. As Iris turned back to Markus, in a split-second thought, she took a step closer, rested a hand on his neck, and pressed a chaste kiss onto his cheek.

And she decided—she could never stop caring about him. They could never have a future together, but his company and kindness would be enough for her.

Markus’ mouth stood agape as her lips connected, his LED flashing in yellow as he took in the unexpected response. Her lips were warm against him, and while he was surprised, he welcomed the feeling. He could feel the stretch of space in between the digits of her fingers on his neck, and it was almost automatic as his hand went up to grasp at her waist, curling his own sweetly into the curve of her side. Iris pulled away, her fingers dropping from him and his going limp to his own side, and he felt almost _cold_ without her against him.

Wait, he _couldn’t_ feel this warm. He couldn’t feel, _period_. _Right?_

“Thanks, Markus.” Iris’ voice was a few octaves lower than he ever heard her. And he _liked_ it. She trotted away from him, straight through the doors of the studio with a proud smile on her face.

Markus ran a check through his system as to why his face was tingling, right in the spot where Iris’ lips were just a moment ago. _All clear. No threats, no viruses._ Mechanically speaking, he was perfectly okay.

Then why did his chest flutter when he thought about her?

 

* * *

“Monster! Off the counter!” Iris chided.

The almost full-fledged cat purred in response, his tail flicking wildly as he stretched his front paws outward toward her pancake batter.

“Monster, no! _My_ pancakes!”

Monster’s paw gently clawed at the edge of the bowl full of batter, and Iris huffed in response. She grabbed the bowl as she heard her father in the other room, screaming, “If I find a piece of fur in my pancakes, I’m sending it back to the chef!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iris rolled her eyes as she responded, setting it beside the pan, already sizzling with butter. Her hands wrapped around the six-month old cat’s middle, hooking an arm underneath his back legs before flinging him gently towards the opening of the living room. Monster wasn’t fazed in the slighted; once all fours were on the ground he strutted forward like a movie star, his nose pointed out to the air.

_I **love** that cat._

“Y’know, he was only supposed to be here for like a month, right?” Carl eyed the feline on the ground from his spot at the table.

As Iris poured some pancake batter onto the pan in front of her, Markus recalled, “His bio is out online, Carl. If someone puts in an adoption application we will be the first to know.”

Iris’ heart sunk in her chest. She loved taking care of the little brat, even if he stepped in the paint in the studio once in a while. He was young; still learning the ways of the world. He just needed a teacher to show him the right way around the house. She knew she was being selfish, but Iris hoped that the application bank would _stay_ empty.

“Still,” Carl didn’t sound convinced. “If he steps in my indigo red again, I am throwing him out a window without mercy.”

“Dad!” Iris scolded. “If you say another mean thing about the _bestest cat in the world_ I am spitting in your food.”

“You don’t have the guts.”

She finished the rest of the pancakes in silence, thankful for the peaceful spring air flowing through the window of her breakfast nook. Iris grabbed two plates and filled them with pancakes, eggs, strips of crunchy bacon, and poured a strawberry compote over the carby goodness. It was a little sweet (not something her father’s doctor would be happy with him eating,) but her dad had been doing particularly well with his diet. _Just cheating a little bit. Just today._

Iris set the plate down in front of her father and her own place on the table before sitting, and her dad turned the television on. While they ate, they listened to the top news story of the day. _Deviants in Detroit_?

Iris read the words at the bottom of the screen: _More deviant activity in Detroit, CyberLife still working on root cause_.

Monster jumped onto the table beside her, and while her eyes were still glued to the screen she handed him a small bit of bacon. Iris heard the crunch as Monster ate the piece, and her hand went underneath his chin to give him a well-deserved scratch.

“Stop that, little flower.” Carl complained. “You giving him a treat is going to show him that the table is a good spot for him. He needs to stay on the ground.” He waved his hand in Monster’s direction, swatting at the cat. Monster set his back legs down, staring at Carl with his little head cocked to the side and bright blue eyes gleaming. “Shoo, ya little shit.”

“He is the _bestest_ little shit in the world so he gets _all_ the bacon.” Iris handed him another small piece, internally cackling as Carl groaned at her. “He’s had a hard-knock life, cut him some slack, dad.”

“I want him gone the second someone else wants him.”

Iris frowned but said nothing more. What her dad wants, her dad will surely get. So instead, she turned the volume up on the television, listening to the news of deviant androids. _Did you know that deviants come from different android types? It’s not just one bad batch of PC200’s; there’s **no telling** which one could be next_.

_Please_ , Iris thought with an eyeroll. _They try to make androids seem scarier than they really are_.

She took the last bite of her eggs as she shut the tv off. “Now, c’mon, I have that cup to get out of the kiln today.”

“Just a minute.” Carl said, shoving a forkful on pancake into his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. “The compote is really good. I want to remember what it tastes like before I go back to 98 percent sugar-free again.”

The two finished their morning meal quickly, and Iris brought the dirty dishes into the sink. Monster followed her as Carl went into the studio, and Markus walked slowly into the kitchen behind the cat.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Iris asked as she grabbed at a sponge. While they had a dishwasher, it was easier and quicker to wash dishes by hand. Plus, Monster would sit on the counter beside her while she worked, and it was great fun to watch him swat at a stray bubble floating from her sponge.

“Nothing,” Markus answered, his eyes searching through the Manfred’s calendar internally. “Besides the artwork, you two have an open calendar.”

“Any mail?”

“A couple hand letters were delivered this morning. I’ll grab them from the box in a moment.”

Iris looked up from the suds, hopeful. “Any news from Leo?”

Markus pressed his lips in a thin line. “None, I’m afraid.”

_Shit_. It’s been six months since she’s last heard from him. They were almost at the six-and-a-half-month mark, which is the longest they have been without speaking. Iris looked back down to her dishes, eyes staring out as her mind wandered to her half-brother. _Please be okay_.

Monster chirped softly at Iris, and he took small steps up to the edge of the counter, close to her. His face stretched out to nudge against hers, and she pressed a soft kiss between his ears. _And some people think cats aren’t empathetic at all_.

Markus’ voice was soft as he asked, “Would you like me to send him a message?”

Iris pondered the thought. “I have before. He hasn’t responded. He wouldn’t respond this time around.” _He only calls when he needs something from them_. If she waited long enough he would come crawling back to them, hopefully in one piece. _Probably high, but in one piece_.

“I’m sorry.”

Iris shook her head at Markus. “Don’t be. I’ve told you before.” She smiled sadly. “Leo is a handful at the best of times.”

She brought her attention back to the plates at hand, and her hand vigorously scrubbed at a red spot on the plate from the fruit compote. Monster jumped from the countertop, running to the living room for seemingly no reason. _What a brat, leaving Iris alone. Doesn’t he know that she needs all of the attention?_ Trying to get the thought of Leo out of her head, she asked Markus, “Would you mind grabbing the mail?”

He nodded curtly. “Of course.”

She finished the dishes by herself, quickly finishing up and setting the sponge aside against the spout. Through her ears rang the sound of a door opening and closing shut. She assumed was Markus with the front, heading down to the mailbox at the beginning of the paved pathway. With the suds and grime all gone from her fingers, she headed to the opening of the living room, but was immediately stopped by the android. _That was fast_.

“ _You_ have a letter, Iris.” Markus handed it to her enthusiastically, and she blinked. “It’s addressed _only_ to you, not your father.”

“What… _what_?” Iris’ eyes widened. On the front of the letter was a name from a high-ranking art exhibit in Detroit, one she visited with her father many years ago when they opened a hall for his art. She snatched the letter from Markus’ hand, ripped the top open, and quickly skimmed through the contents. “Oh, my _god_!”

“Dear Iris Manfred,” she read aloud, voice high with excitement, “We have taken a high liking to the level of sophistication and grace within your unique form of sculpting. We would like to open a hall of your work in our exhibition with any pieces you would like to have on display. A banquet in your honor will be held if you so choose to open the hall, and will be held on November 1st, 2038, in six months’ time. We hope to hear you soon!”

Iris’ hands were shaking from the exhilaration running through her body. She felt like running, jumping, screaming from the top of her lungs. This was _huge_! Sure, her pieces were out there in the world, and she got quite a bit of money from it, but her father was normally the moneymaker. People pay _big bucks_ for a Carl Manfred original. Iris Manfred originals were good, but not _great_.

Until now.

“Oh my god!” Iris jumped in her spot, swirling in a circle and throwing her hands out in the air. “I get a hall! I get a _freaking hall_! I can’t be- _lieve_ it!!”

As she squealed with unadulterated joy, Markus grinned down to her. “Shall I send them a confirmation email?”

“Yes!” Iris nodded quickly. “Yes, of course! And I can send them a couple vases, some plates and pots, the cup I’m finishing up. And, oh, I’m keeping the ephelant, that one is dad’s, but I’ll to go through the rest because I get a _freaking hall_ in a _super serious art exhibit_!!” Her birthday was on the 5th of November, so this was like the _best birthday gift_ _ever_.

“Oh, I gotta tell dad!” Iris exclaimed, and she ran with joy to the studio’s automatic door as Markus trailed slowly behind her. When the door opened and she stepped through, she immediately headed over to her father, but stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping. The sight she saw was too good to be true.

Monster was perched on her father’s wheelchair, resting comfortably with all fours curled underneath him on an armrest. Even though Iris wasn’t too close, she could hear the loud purr of happiness coming from the little kitten. Carls’ hand was outstretched, painting away at a small canvas in front of him with ease, like he _didn’t mind_ that Monster was there. He looked back to the noise of the door, finding Iris and Markus staring at him. And the edge of his lips quirked up in the smallest smile.

“Markus,” His voice was calm, and he put his brush into a paint swatch on his palette. “Please take Monster’s bio off the internet.”

Iris’ eyes widened. “Seriously?!” Her day was getting better and better.

“We can keep him.”


	6. A Banquet to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris' first-ever official banquet is here, and her emotions are running sky high through the ordeal. She tries to get rid her feelings of Markus, and catches the eye of a handsome stranger.

If Iris’ heart could leap out of her chest like they did in cartoons, that’s what it would be doing in this very moment. Tonight was the night of her first-ever art hall, and she was _terrified_.

She, Carl, and Markus had planned _everything_ down to the minute detail. Her pieces were sent, the date was set, and hundreds of people had reservations to the opening banquet. Some famous names she and her father recognized, some they didn’t, some known fans of her works; it was a good mix.

But _still_ , Iris’ heart pounded in anticipation.

“What do you think, Monster?” Iris asked her year-old kitten. She held out two dresses, one a long, deep, sultry red; the other black, short, with a see-through back. Her hair was in wide-set curlers and she was _still_ wearing her pj’s from that morning. At least she had her earrings in already. Two sets of gold studs, and one short dangling gold flower at the bottom. Monster was curled up in her bed, his blue eyes staring up at her curiously. “Red? Black?” She held each one in front of her, waiting for a chirp or meow in response. “I don’t have all day, baby. I need an answer.”

“Black.”

Iris jumped at the noise, her eyes shooting to the door behind her.

“Well, you seem very certain about that answer. What makes you say that?” Iris asked Markus. He took a few generous steps to her, and his hand grabbed the red dress to set it back in her closet.

“Easy,” he answered. Markus went to her bed and reached out to pet between Monster’s ears. The kitten stretched out for his touch in response. _Monster, you little slut. You’re supposed to be **my** cat_! “All of your pieces are filled with colors. The black would make you stand out in contrast to them.”

Iris considered the thought, and nodded approvingly. “Smart.”

She grabbed her shoes for the evening (a pair of black heels with the top cris-crossing,) with her empty hand and headed in to the bathroom. “Dad’s all set?” She shut the door behind her and began to shimmy out of her regular clothes.

“Yes,” Markus said, waiting for Iris beside Monster on the bed. “He is dressed and on the first floor already, playing a round of chess against himself while he waits for his date.”

Iris was quiet for the next few minutes, focusing completely on putting her look together. The dress and heels worked together well, and her smoky eyeshadow blended perfectly on the first try.

The dress was stunning, if she did say so herself. It was strapless, her favorite kind. The front had a deep neckline, with soft folds curling around the top. It started as a gentle silk, and stayed so as the small fold straightened out at the middle. Once the dress reached her hips, it became a tulle skirt, gently poofing out from the few layers underneath. The length ended at her knees, but when she walked in it the skirt would show off her legs. And of course, the back was see-through, showing off more skin than she would normally be comfortable with, but what could she say? She was emboldened with the thought of her own art hall.

Iris’ hands were working on a bottle of mascara as she added, “I shouldn’t be too long. Now I just need some lipstick and to get these stupid things out of my hair.”

“Take your time; we have fifteen minutes before the limousine arrives.”

Iris set a neutral toned lipstick on, deciding that, like Markus said, she didn’t want to attract too much attention. Tonight, all eyes would be on her pieces. The curlers came out easily enough, creating generous waves in her hair that she was hoping with just a bit of hairspray would stay the night. _Perfect_.

She stepped out of the bathroom slowly, her hand holding onto the top of her dress. “One last thing, Markus.” Once she reached him, she looked up to him sheepishly. “I can’t reach the zipper on my back. Would you mind?”

“Of course not.” His voice was low. “Turn around.”

Iris did as she was told, one hand holding the front of her dress so it didn’t fall and the other pushing her curls to the side so her back was completely exposed to him. She was silent as she felt his hand at her neck, helping to brush aside the mop of her hair.

“Woah…” Iris heard Markus murmur softly, and she smiled knowingly. “I was unaware you had a tattoo.”

“What?” She teased quietly. “That isn't in your memory files?”

“Not at all. When did you get it?”

“That,” She said, “Was a gift for my 19th birthday.”

It was a huge tattoo, covering almost the whole length of her spine. The design was of two lilies—one blue, one pink. Their stems were intertwined, curling around each other towards the base of her spine, ending right above the tulle skirt. The lilies themselves were about in the middle of her back, both bold and big and covering a wide expanse of her skin. Leaves shot out in different areas, small strokes of green between the bright petals. Some petals were floating on her skin, not connected to any piece of the lilies themselves.

It was the only tattoo Iris had, and it meant the world to her.

“May I…” Markus was quiet, almost too quiet for his words to reach her ears. “May I touch it?”

Iris nodded silently, and she felt a featherlight touch at the base of the design. It took all her willpower not to sigh at the feel of him against her skin.

Markus’ fingers traced upwards, his thumb brushing where his others couldn’t reach. Iris closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensation. Thoughtlessly she pushed herself back against his hand, like a silent game of push and pull.

At the middle of her back, Markus pushed his whole palm on the expanse of the blue lily on her left side. He didn’t quite understand just _why_ he wanted to touch the design. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind this interaction; why did he want to touch her? Why did he want to feel close to her?

Markus didn’t know. He didn’t understand. But what he knew for sure is that he liked the feeling it gave him; liked the rush that flurried through his system when his thumb brushed lightly over the edge of the petals.

As his hand curved to her right, to the pink lily, Iris let out a soft moan. She felt silly that the noise escaped; he wasn’t even _doing_ _anything_ , just touching her. But it was enough to send her nerves in hyperdrive. Her head gently lolled back, close enough to Markus that her hair was spilling over his shoulder. The LED by Markus’ eye swirled easily, the components flicking from blue to yellow, then straight to red, holding its position in the angry color.

Markus did an internal check of his system once, twice, and even a _third_ time to understand why his software was going haywire. He could find no reasoning for his system to be in a danger mode. Just like he couldn’t find a reason for his enjoyment of the design, or the replay of the _delicious_ sound Iris made in his head.

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t his system. It was _her_.

“Who designed it?” Markus softly whispered. His hand traveled up to her shoulder, tracing a few flying petals easily.

Iris, with her eyes still closed, smirked. “Take a guess.”

“You?” His hand pulled away from the naked skin, and Iris internally cried. The little game of push and pull was over, but still she yearned for more. _Stop, it, Iris. **Stop**_.

“No,” she shook her head.

“Carl?”

“No.”

Markus furrowed his brow. “Then…?”

Iris opened her eyes, staring out at her dresser. “Leo did.”

Markus’ hand froze just above the zipper. “… Leo? Really?”

She nodded softly, and she could feel the pull of the zipper up on her back. “He’s quite talented when he puts his mind to something.” She chuckled softly to herself. “I swear to god, artistry runs in the family. Leo was just… so spiteful to dad, growing up. He didn’t want to be like him. Like _us_. So he wouldn’t put paint to canvas, ever. It was his promise to himself.”

“But he created this for you?” Markus finished with the zipper, and his hand dropped to his side mechanically. _Don’t touch her again_. It was his _own_ promise, he told himself. The LED softly swirled again, reaching the yellow once before returning to blue.

“Yes.” Iris fixed her hair on her shoulders, setting the tresses in her regular style. “I said that I wanted a tattoo, but I didn’t know what I wanted and I was struggling to create something. Dad had a few ideas, but they weren’t really _my_ style. So,” she shrugged, not yet turning to face Markus. If she did, the spell would be ruined and she would have to face reality again. “He created the lilies and said that the tattoo artist better not fuck it up.”

“That was very sweet of him.”

“It was.” Iris turned back to face him, eyes gleaming up. “Are you _sure_ he didn’t respond to us? At all?”

Markus nodded somberly. “I’m sorry, I haven’t received anything from him.”

She stared down to her heels, dejected. _Damn it_. It was over a _year_ since she and her father have heard from him, and it was starting to piss Iris off. She had left _multiple_ messages about the hall opening in her favor; how proud she was for getting one out in Detroit, how she wanted him to be beside her when they opened the doors. Iris wanted her brother and father to be right there with her when the company congratulated her.

And all she got was radio silence. For those six months of anticipation, for the whole _year_ she’s had Monster; not a god damn peep from him.

Her voice was an octave above a murmur. “I was really hoping he’d show tonight. He knows how much this means to me.”

“I know.” Markus said sympathetically. And, _damn his inward promise_ , he brought a hand underneath her chin. He pulled her face to look up to him, eyes searching through hers as he added, “But you have your father tonight. You’ll have fans of your artwork surrounding you. And… you have me.”

Iris smiled up at him. “That I do.”  

She was hoping that he couldn’t hear the thumping of her heart in her chest, or feel the warmth spreading through her body. Iris told herself months ago that she had to stop caring about him. Stop feeling things that she should _not_ be feeling. That androids and humans could never work. Yet here she was, his hand curled under her chin, staring down to her so intensely that she felt she was burning under his gaze.

Her stomach flip-flopped. _This **must** stop_, Iris told herself. Her pupils were probably dilated, he’d probably notice, and he’d start asking questions and _no this isn’t possible, Iris, **stop**_.

Thankfully, Markus wasn’t scanning her. No, he was scanning _himself_. His system told him _nothing_ as to why he could feel this… whatever it was, when he was with Iris. If his scanner couldn’t tell him what was wrong with his system, he was screwed. He shouldn’t be feeling these things. He shouldn’t be feeling at _all_.

Yet here he was, her face in his hand, the warmth emitting from her gaze lighting his system up in a way he deemed not possible.

“Markus.” Iris’ voice was soft.

“Yes?” He asked, thumb lightly grazing her cheek.

“We’re gonna be late.”

She pulled away from him fully, walking past him with a purpose. This _cannot_ be real; this little dream of hers had to dissipate. Markus wasn’t helping, but that doesn’t matter. She was the human. Iris had to take matters into her own hands and _walk away_ from it. Walk away from the fantasy that would never be true.

* * *

_Heels were a bad idea_.

They looked _gorgeous_ , and Iris was glad for the extra couple inches they gave her, but she was three hours in and she wanted to rip the damn things off her feet.

Iris knew what to expect for the night; she and her father went over the to-do’s the second she got the letter. But still, she was bombarded with the reality that is parading around and talking about herself and her pieces.

Truth be told, she didn’t mind the extravaganza. Iris thought they were fun. But she had to choose her words carefully, had to tip-toe lightly through conversation, lest she expose too much of her regular day. That was exhausting to her.

One day she might let out, “Oh, I smoked a pack of cigarettes at three in the morning and ate cold pizza with ranch dressing after.” _That_ would let out an amusing array of reactions. _Very un-ladylike_ ; very much herself.

She stood by herself near the buffet table of small hors d'oeuvres, sighing internally. _Only another hour to go_. Just one before she, Carl, and Markus can make their leave. The pair were across the room, next to the winding vase covered in bumps that looked like wildflowers that she finished up a few months ago. Carl was surrounded by older ladies and gentlemen; people he had met beforehand. Iris recognized a couple big names beside him, and she smiled as he chatted happily to the group. Markus stood a few feet away, close enough that if Carl needed something, he would be accessible, but far enough away that he wasn’t breathing over her father’s neck. His hands were clasped behind his back, resting comfortably. The soft blue light from his LED was a contrast to the regular yellow showcasing her pieces.

Iris sneakily rubbed at the back of her thigh, where her muscle was aching, but brushed it off as if she was smoothing out her tulle skirt. Her small fingers grabbed at a devilled egg from the plate, popping it into her mouth. _Protein helps people recharge, right_?

“Champagne, madam.” A waiter android dressed in a handsome tux held out a small tray to her. The only item on top being a full, long champagne glass.

Iris raised an eyebrow, confused. “Oh, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. I didn’t order any champagne, thanks.” She wasn’t really one to drink. Sure, a glass here and there, but it wasn’t her favorite pastime.

“You did not,” the android agreed. He pointed behind him. “That man did.”

Across the way, Iris glanced over to the small bar, where a gentleman her age was sitting on a chair. His forearms rested against the chic black top as his eyes, these hazel orbs that Iris approved _very much of_ , trained on her. Once he noticed her staring at him, he gave a flirtatious smirk and held up his drink to her.

Iris gingerly grabbed at the champagne glass, thanking the android, and held it up to the buyer. She took a generous sip of the bubbly alcohol, hoping it would recharge just a bit of confidence before she sauntered over to him.

“Y’know,” Iris started, her fingers circling around the glass. She tried to keep her voice low; seductive. “If you wanted to say hi, all you had to do was come over.”

_He. Was. Beautiful_. Short golden tresses styled perfectly, a nicely set square jaw, handsomely defined cheekbones, hazel eyes. A dash of height and a strong muscle build on him. He was the physical embodiment of what Iris thought Prince Charming looked like when she was growing up.

The man quirked the edge of his lip up as he responded. “I figured after the night you’ve been having, a little something to take the nerves away would be a treat.”

_French?_ She thought. His accent was thick. _Mesmerizing_.

“I’m not nervous.” Iris said, and she took a little sip of the drink. “But it’s much appreciated. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. It’s always a treat to give the most beautiful girl in the room a drink.”

_Oh, a sweet-talker_ , Iris internally teased.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He stood slowly, his height cowering over her form. He must’ve been at _least_ 6 feet. “Only to the ones whose pieces mystify me.”

“Oh, I’ve mystified you?” Iris teased, her eyes gleaming playfully up to him.

He nodded, hazel eyes darkening. “I’m absolutely _captivated_.”

The stranger held out a hand to her. “Johnathan Atwell.”

She brought a hand from her drink into his, giving a soft handshake. “Iris Manfred.”

The name didn’t sound familiar to her, so he couldn’t have been an artist; at least, not from America. Maybe he was a big name in France. Could be he was just visiting the exhibit and stumbled upon her banquet. She had much to learn about him.

“I have to say,” Atwell began, staring down to her. “My favorite piece has to be the plate you have, towards the beginning.” _Ah, the one with dark reds, blacks, a dash of white_. _The small haze of purple at the bottom_. “Tell me, what was the inspiration for it?”

It was based off of Leo. Purple was his favorite color growing up, and Red Ice was his favorite pastime nowadays. If Iris had to explain it, she would say it was a visual of his descent into his addiction. Happiness drowning in the Red.

But, she just met this man. Iris didn’t feel like telling Mr. Johnathan Atwell her whole life story.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out.” She said easily.

“I do love a good mystery.”

He smirked down to her, and she felt herself blushing under his gaze. “What about you? Have you created anything in this exhibit?”

“Ah, I have a few. Not a whole hall, like you, love.”

Iris listened to him as he spoke, discovering that yes, he was from France, and yes, he was visiting the exhibit. He had just managed to come at the right time and found himself enthralled with her type of designs. His works tend to be more hyper-realistic, like the vase or the flowers on her back. Iris felt herself leaning closer, her mind trained completely on the man in front of her. Every worry melted away as the pair conversed, flirtatious undertones not-so-hidden as Johnathan’s hand brushed back an unruly curl of her hair.

And while they chatted, Markus stared at Iris, frowning as he scanned her system. Her heart beat fast in her chest, high above her normal rate. Her hand was tight around the champagne glass, like a tether to reality. And if his optical scanners zoomed in close enough to her face, Markus could clearly see dilated pupils, so large that the black was overtaking her natural chocolate brown irises.

His LED went straight from blue to red, blinking quickly.

He couldn’t understand why he felt the interaction between Iris and the stranger set off his warning system. In fact, relationships, human contact, general easy-going interactions were _good_ for her. It was _healthy_. Markus should have been satisfied that Iris felt attraction to someone. He should have ticked off a box in his system that tonight was going great for her in more ways than one. Iris’ cortisol levels were through the _roof_.

But Markus saw the gentleman’s hand slide on her back, tracing the lilies, and his frown deepened. No, he was _angry_ that Iris was receiving such attention. That stranger was touching her back like _he_ did earlier; making her smile in a way that _he_ always would. And when the man leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and seeing the way Iris’ eyes fluttered shut, it took all strength Markus’ system had not to march right up and shove the man away.

… _Jealousy_? Was he actually experiencing _jealousy_?

Months ago, he would have told himself it wasn’t possible. But now he wasn’t so sure.

“Markus?” His name flew through his ears, and he looked over to Carl. The old artist had wheeled himself closer to the android and away from his friends while they continued to chat. Concern fluttered over his wrinkled features.

“Yes?”

“Is everything alright?” Carl pointed over to Markus’ LED. It was still blinking furiously in red.

“Of course.” The LED flickered, reaching yellow once and landing back in the soft blue. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“Quite so. I’m happy for her. Aren’t you?”

Markus looked back over to her, seeing her laugh heartily at something the stranger said. Iris looked ecstatic. The LED wavered, blue going into yellow, flickering back and forth before landing specifically at his regular color.

Markus never answered him. He couldn’t respond with, “yes,” which is what Carl expected of him. He couldn’t say it because it wasn’t true. And he had once learned that, if there was nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Silence would have to do.

He didn’t need to answer, though. Carl caught sight of the flickering LED; the way it was lit completely in red as his eyes were trained on Iris earlier. And Carl understood. Silently, he nodded to himself. _He **knew** it_. This was just the proof he needed. He and Iris would have to have a chat later, then.

* * *

“—No way! I don’t believe it!” Iris laughed.

“What? Do you want pictures?” Johnathan grinned down to her. “I have pictures.”

“I might need to see them.” She teased. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think someone can _accidentally_ run into a polar bear.”

“Ah, we didn’t think so either. Reality was far more terrifying than our fantasy.”

Iris nodded, finishing her glass of champagne. “It always is, isn’t it?” She set the glass down on the bar top, her eyes still trained on Johnathan.

“Not always. I thought talking to you would be much scarier than this.”

Iris smiled shyly. “What? Do I look like a gal that bites?”

He leaned in close to her ear, voice husky. “Only if I ask nicely, I’m assuming.”

_Oh, **shit**. _

Her night was going much better than she was expecting.

He never gave her a chance to respond before he pulled away, smirking to himself. _Smug bastard_. “Would you like another drink?”

No should have been Iris’ answer. But she was having the time of her life, so she nodded silently. God forbid she try to _say_ anything back; her nerves shot to her throat at his last comment. Maybe another drink _would_ do her some good.

“Hey! Waiter!” Johnathan snapped at the closest android in a tux, and the android walked up as quick as he could. “Get us some refills, will you?”

The android nodded curtly, the LED blinking in yellow once. “Of course, sir. Right away.”

“Make it snappy.” Johnathan barked at it. Iris frowned. “I don’t want to wait all night.”

“Not at all, sir. Very quick.”

As the android zoomed away, Iris muttered softly, “They can take suggestions, y’know. There’s no need to be hasty.”

“Ah,” Johnathan shrugged. “They are here to serve us. They’re not human, so who cares?”

_I do_ , Iris thought. She felt a lump grow in her chest. So maybe her night wasn’t going as great as she was hoping. He was not as empathetic as originally thought.

“So, you and your father work in the same studio?” Atwell asked, bringing her back up to the present.

She nodded. Maybe tonight could be salvaged. “Yes. We spend most of our time together, too. I love working with him.”

“You don’t think it’s stifling? I’d hate having someone in _my_ workspace, you know? How am I supposed to create extravagant pieces with some old geezer yapping in my ear?”

_Oh_?

Iris narrowed her eyes at him. “He doesn’t. We work together simultaneously, on our own pieces. I am very thankful that he was so enthusiastic about me wanting to start my own pieces at such a young age in _his_ studio, not mine.”

Johnathan felt the bite in her words, and backtracked. “Of course. I don’t mean to intrude in any way. It’s just a foreign concept to me.”

She took a breath. “It doesn’t work for everyone. But with us, we’re just peas in a pod.”

“Well, maybe I could see some behind the scenes work sometime?” Johnathan’s voice was like silk, so soft and soothing as it rushed through Iris’ ears. “I’d like to take you out to dinner. How does next Saturday sound? 8 o’clock?”

Iris’ mouth opened, her mind running at the highest speed setting she could muster. Did she really want to? While Johnathan was a great smooth-talker, she didn’t exactly enjoy the crack at her father, or how quick he was to snap at the android. She was conflicted.

And she reevaluated. He might not be as bad as she thought. This was the first time they had ever conversed, and he was right; the concept of working with her father wasn’t exactly common. Johnathan probably wasn’t too bad.

Just as she was ready to respond, the waiter android rushed back to the pair and with ease set the drinks on the table in between them. Johnathan grabbed at his glass harshly. “About damn time.”

“Very sorry, sir. I had to find the specific bottle of champagne, and—”

“Stop.” Johnathan ordered. He handed a glass to Iris, and she took it, albeit unhappily. “I don’t want to hear excuses.”

“Android?” Iris’ voice was sweet. The android looked to her, ready to serve. “Do you have a name?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, madam. I am just an WR400 model.”

Iris nodded, and smiled to him. “Well, thank you very much for your hard work, WR400. We are all set.” Johnathan stared at the interaction between the pair, confused.

The waiter bowed swiftly. “Have a good evening, madam.”

As he walked away, Iris watched as he took even, controlled steps out to the crowd. Johnathan asked beside her, “Why does it matter, being nice to them? They have no feelings.”

Her eyes wandered over to Markus beside her father, looking out at nothing and everything. And Iris responded. “Maybe not. But I would like to be remembered for my kindness than arrogance to those who feel neither.”

“I see.” His voice was thick. “So, how does next Saturday sound?”

She looked over to him, this time her mind set. “Unfortunately I’m busy then.”

“That’s alright. Maybe the week after?”

She blinked at him and changed her tactic. “I’m busy _all_ Saturdays. I’m sure you understand.”

Johnathan stared down to her coldly. _There it is_. While it panged her to see the harsh response, she was almost _glad_ about it. She could never be with someone so demanding and arrogant to those he deemed beneath him. “That I do. Have a good night, Miss Manfred.”

She held up her champagne glass. “You as well, Mister Atwell.”

* * *

It was late when the three returned to the mansion. Iris was glad to kick off her shoes and gown and slip into something _much more_ comfortable. T-shirts and sweatpants, galore. Her make-up was rubbed off and her hair was set in a bun atop her head, little sprigs flying around her face. She felt _perfect_.

Monster was sound asleep on her bed when they returned, and she didn’t want to wake and move him just yet. So she trotted down the stairs to the kitchen, smoking a cigarette while she leaned her body against the wall. Her eyes were staring out at the sky, counting the stars that twinkled above her.

“Your father isn’t in bed just yet,” wandered into the kitchen, and she turned to look at Markus by the door, light from the room behind him shining softly around his form. “He’s brushing his teeth, but he wanted me to tell you how proud he is of your achievement tonight.”

Iris smiled at Markus. _Like she always said, her father was a mush_. “I’ll be sure to tell him thanks before he gets to bed.”

Markus nodded silently to her, and she turned back to the open window, puffing at the stick. It had been a long night for her. She was sure to get the best sleep she’s had in a while.

“Iris?” Her name escaped his mouth, and he almost felt guilty. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, but curiosity overtook his system. He took generous steps to her, stopping just before the fridge. “I would like to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, Markus.” She pressed the cigarette onto the windowsill, putting it out before she looked back to him. “Shoot.”

“Tonight,” he started, not looking at her. “There was a man. You two were getting along very well for a portion of the night. Yet… You did not take his offer for dinner. I’m curious, why didn’t you?”

Iris quirked an eyebrow up at him. _Well, for starters, he called my dad an old geezer. I’m the only one allowed to give him shit,_ she thought cheekily. Then she thought about how rude he was to the android that served them. She would not tolerate arrogance. It just wasn’t in her DNA. She was always kind to others, like she had been taught to since being born. If they couldn’t be kind, they would never be worth her time.

Then she thought about her feelings for the android right in front of her. They were still there, still alight. If she learned anything from tonight’s endeavor, it was that the kindness of an android would always be worth more than the impoliteness of a human.

Iris let out a soft laugh. Just one, like a quick breath.

“You’re an idiot, Markus.”

His eyes found hers, staring up at him sweetly, and he frowned. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

_Really?_ She thought. _You haven’t seen it? You haven’t figured out the puzzle yet?_ She was surprised.

“That’s okay.” Without a second thought, Iris closed the gap between them, her hand going to rest on his jawline. She felt the stubble of hair scratching at her skin as her fingers splayed out over his skin. Her eyes connected to his, his frown still evident. She shook her head softly as she added, “You don’t have to.”

_But I want to_ , Markus almost spoke. He tried to, but the words couldn’t escape him. It was like he was frozen every time she touched him.

Iris’ attention was brought to the LED beside his eye, blinking from blue to red, where it stayed. She looked back to his eyes, teasing softly. “Are you nervous, Markus?”

She waited for his regular response. _No, I don’t feel nervous. I don’t **feel** , ever_. She’d heard variations of it from the year and a half that she and her father have had him. And this spell she was under would break, and she’d go to bed only slightly disappointed. It’s what she was expecting.

“No.” Markus answered honestly, his voice calmer than she expected. His hand went to her chin, just like it was before the banquet. “Not when I’m with you.”

A soft breath of surprise escaped Iris. She wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt response, or the way his thumb trailed along her cheekbone. She couldn’t muster anything out as his thumb explored the skin of her cheekbone, making her nerves light up, like electricity running wherever he touched. Her hand on his jawline moved back, fingers curling around just behind his neck. It was like the pair were lost in each other, searching the other for something unidentifiable; something unattainable. Iris had deemed it so many months ago. But that thought wavered in the darkness of the kitchen, breaking as softly as Markus’ touch glided along her skin.

Vaguely, Iris wondered if androids’ hearts could race. If they could pump fast when they were flustered. Did they mirror human attraction down to a T? Her eyes met with Markus’; no dilated pupils. _Maybe not down to a T_ , she inwardly laughed. But she couldn’t feel his heart—or his _thirium pump_ , rather—she couldn’t feel how quick it was pumping.

His thumb traced her bottom lip gently, feeling the plump skin bounce underneath his touch. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss them. Would it feel like every movie he’s ever downloaded deemed it to be? Would everything just fall into place afterwards, would any problem they’d ever face dissipate into nothingness? Markus thought that seemed silly, but he thought that an android feeling _anything_ was silly just months ago.

A clearing of a throat broke the spell that the both of them were under, and like they were burned they pulled away. Carl had wheeled himself in the doorway, his eyes trained on his daughter and his android like he caught them stealing from the cookie jar. He asked slyly, “Am I interrupting something?”

Markus was the first to answer. “Not at all, Carl. Ready for bed?”

The LED went from red to yellow to blue in a nano-second and he walked over to Carl, grabbing at the back of his wheelchair. Iris watched as Markus and her father went into the living room, and from her spot in the kitchen she heard the whirl of the machine that carried Carls’ wheelchair up the stairs. She couldn’t move just yet. Her mind was still reeling from the intense _whatever the fuck just happened_.

Maybe Iris was right all those months ago. There was more to Markus than either of them realized.

* * *

“Iris? Really?”

“What?” She looked down to the chessboard between her and her father. “It’s a decent move.”

“No.” Carl took his knight and grabbed her bishop off the board. _Ah, shit._ “It’s not. You normally kick my ass at this, kiddo.”

“I’m just…” She shook her head, as if she was clearing her inward thought with the motion. Her hands ruffled at her mop of hair, the sunlight through the windows streaming through her brown locks. “Warming up. It’s fine.”

“You aren’t this careless.” Carl held the bishop up. “This is your favorite piece and it’s in _my hand_ now. How’d that happen?”

“Alright!” Iris huffed. “It was a bad move, sorry.”

Carl looked at her, an eyebrow raised. He softly said, “Seriously, little flower. You can’t hide much from me. Where’s your head at?”

She looked down to the board, surveying the match between them. But out of the corner of her eye she could see Markus by the sink, cleaning up their dishes from breakfast that morning. And, _dammit_ , her father noticed.

“You know,” he began. Iris grabbed at one of her pawns and set it two paces forward. “Back in my youth, some believed that homosexuality was a sin.”

Iris snorted. “That’s stupid.”

“It was.” Carl agreed heartily. He moved a rook easily. “And before that, interracial couples were frowned upon. They had to fight for their rights. They couldn’t marry, couldn’t adopt, couldn’t own a house together. Even though there were many, simply in love, there were just as many people willing to keep them apart. They were told their love was different; it was _taboo_.”

“I’ve read about it in school. Interracial, LGBT, all that good stuff.” Iris moved her knight ( _praying_ that it was a decent move,) as she looked up to him curiously. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” he leaned forward to her, a knowing smile gracing his features. “There’s always going to be people marginalized for those they care for. Hell, I had a boyfriend _way_ back in the day and some people turned from me and my works. Nowadays, that little taboo group might be humans and androids.”

Iris’ eyes widened, and she pushed her back further into her chair. “Dad. No.”

“Oh, please.” He waved it off easily. Iris was always finicky when talking about her love life (or lack thereof,) but he felt it was important for her to know. To talk about it with him. “I saw that look last night. You looked like you did when you were crushing on Diana in the second grade.”

“ _Dad_.” Iris whined. She wanted to sink into her chair. “Stop it, he might be able to hear you. Besides, there’s _nothing_ going on.”

“Maybe not yet.” Carl said. “But there should be.”

She was silent as she stared out to the board, not really looking at it, but _through_ it. Her emotions have been on a rollercoaster since last night, since the silent game she and Markus played. Of course her father noticed. He noticed _every damn thing_ ; it was both a blessing and a curse for her. She was quiet as murmured, “It’s not possible. Androids can’t feel emotion. They aren’t human.” She’d gone through the scenario a million times in her head. It wasn’t possible.

“You really believe that?” Carl asked her wisely. Iris’ eyes peered through the doorway into the kitchen, Markus still working at the dishes. Like he felt her gaze on him, Markus turned his head to look at the pair playing by the window. He gave Iris a gentle smile and a curt nod, and she felt her heart flip in her chest.

Maybe. Maybe not.


	7. Iris' 26th Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris' 26th birthday rolls around, and she gets unexpected surprises. Some bring joy, others... not so much.

November 5th, 2038.

Iris’ 26th birthday.

The morning was like any other. She woke up decently early at eight, with Monster trailing behind her like a fluffy shadow, and made waffles, bacon, and eggs. Carl was still _completely_ conked out in his bed, and probably would be until nine or ten in the morning. _Old coot needs his beauty rest_ , Iris inwardly teased. She had a cigarette, made some raspberry compote for the hell of it, and watched a bit of the news. More deviants. Lowered stocks. Homeless rate rising. More of the same, she deemed.

Markus was up and out of the mansion at seven thirty. Iris’ father ordered some paints the night before and he was to pick them up in the city when Bellini’s opened so Carl could paint after breakfast. It’d be a while before he returned, so Iris was alone with Monster for at least an hour or so.

“Monster!” She called sweetly to him. He trotted up to her, rubbing his side against her leg as she walked through the living room. “Do you know what today is?”

Her arms grabbed around his middle and she brought him up to her chest, readjusting the position quickly to hold him like a baby. His belly was out to her, and her fingers nonchalantly rubbed at his tummy. “Guess, kitten. What day is it?”

Wide blue eyes stared up at her, no chirp, meow, or purr to be heard.

“I said _guess_ , Monster!”

_God, I’m a crazy cat lady_ , she thought with a silly grin.

“Mrow?” Monster said. His front paws stretched out over her arm, and she could feel his little claws digging into the skin as he kneaded.

“Yes.” Iris nuzzled her face into his soft black fur. “You’re so smart.”

In a second he flipped over in her arms and flung himself off. He could only take so many belly rubs before he turned into an _evil clawed warrior_ and gave her some scratches.

“What should I do while I wait for dad and Markus?” Iris asked her kitten.

Monster gave a simple chirp in response.

“No, baby. You’ve already had breakfast. What if I go check out that penguin I made a couple days ago? Do you think it’ll be ready?”

“Meow.”

“You are the smartest cat in the world, Monster.”

“Mrow.”

* * *

The penguin was indeed ready to be glazed, and Iris worked on it quickly while the rest of the house was quiet. It was a simple design, but a cute one. Cartoonish, the way she styled and glazed it, with slight bulging eyes and a large, curved beak. Different from her normal style, but she wanted to experiment a bit.

Iris heard the front door open through the open studio doors. _Markus was home, yay._ Some interaction with someone not her cat would be good on this _totally regular day_. While she loved Monster with her _whole heart_ , he was not much for conversation.

“Morning!” She chirped as he set the paints down on the desk in front of the mirror. Monster ran to Markus, quickly chattering as he headbutted Markus’ foot.

“Good morning.” He replied curtly. Markus pulled his jacket off and hung it on a hook by itself, and Iris took note of the slight dirt and grime covering his form. Monster let out a soft meow, trotting away to god knows where as Iris frowned.

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked, concerned.

Markus shook his head simply. “Just a couple protestors in the square. Nothing to worry about, Iris.”

Iris pressed her lips in a thin line. “Idiots.” She took a step up to him and brushed at the dust that hung on his shoulders. “You weren’t hurt or anything, though?”

“Not at all.” Markus answered simply.

Iris rested her hands on his biceps, her eyes searching over the length of his shirt to make sure all the dirt was gone. _Decent enough_ , she thought. Bits stuck to his collar, but she’d just toss the uniform in the wash later. _Besides, Markus always wears that damn jacket._ She didn’t exactly mind that a bit more skin than usual was showing from her favorite android.

“Is Carl still asleep?” Markus asked, changing the subject. Iris pulled away from him and headed into the kitchen, her steps light and airy.

“What do you think?”

“He _does_ love to sleep in.”

She grabbed at a spare plate from a cupboard and filled it with some bacon and over-easy eggs for her father as she told him, “If you wanna go wake him up, I’ll warm up a plate real quick.”

“I’ll be down in a moment, then.” His eyes met hers briefly, and the smallest smile formed. “By the way, happy birthday, Iris.”

The edges of her eyelids crinkled as she grinned back to him. “Thanks, Markus.”

Iris listened to the gentle taps of his feet against the floor as he walked away from her, and she quickly set the plate into the microwave. _Dad doesn’t get cold food, but he won’t get the best, either. It’s his price to pay for sleeping in so late._

She moved gently around the kitchen to the living room, humming softly to herself. Her hands set the food onto Carls’ spot on the table, and she poured out a cup of tea. Not his favorite (coffee would forever hold a special place in his heart,) but with his medication, it was the closest he could get to a decent caffeinated beverage.

The pair of gentle voices could be heard on the staircase as Iris took a seat in the spot for her dad. She lightly teased as her father’s figure pulled through the doorway. “About time, Sleeping Beauty.”

Carl was quick to snap back, “It takes time to look this good, little flower. Now, scoot. I’m _starving_.”

“Fine.” She stuck her tongue out but moved out of his way, hopping into the space beside him instead. Markus set the wheelchair in place and Iris perched on the side of it as she handed Carl a fork. “I made it just the way you like it.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, my love.”

Iris leaned down and pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Anytime, you pain in my butt.”

Carl used the fork to cut off a bit of his eggs and nonchalantly added, “Y’know, you keep saying things like that, you’ll never get your present.”

She looked down to him teasingly. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten.” Iris loved celebrating her birthday. While she wasn’t a fan of seven course meals and Great Gatsby-like parties, she did enjoy a meal out with those she cared for. At lunch they had a reservation at her favorite hibachi restaurant in the city, and afterwards they’d be going to a gala for her father’s work. Even though there were supposed to be buckets of water pouring from the sky later on, it’s what Iris would consider a perfect day.

Carl smirked up to her. “ _Never_. Happy birthday, little flower.”

Iris blushed slightly at the attention, but said a quick thanks before sitting down on the chair beside him. “You seriously got me a present?”

“Well,” Carl swallowed a bite of bacon before correcting. “I got you a little something for tonight. Markus, would you mind?”

“Of course not. Shall I grab the… other one as well?”

Iris eyed the android as her father answered with a yes. “What other one?”

Markus turned from her and walked to the studio, the door opening for him easily. _No answer? Seriously_? “What _other one_ , Markus?!” And still he gave no response. _Bastard_. She turned to her father accusingly. “What did you do?”

He shrugged in his chair, his eyes twinkling teasingly before he shoveled more eggs into his mouth. “It wasn’t me.”

Iris’ eyes widened, confusion overtaking her features as she gestured manically. _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_

When Markus returned, he held one box in each hand. One was small enough that it fit in his palm, covered in shiny, glittery wrapping paper. _That_ one she deemed her fathers’ doing; it was his normal present design. He loved giving her sparkly things, so Iris was thinking it was jewelry of some sort. The second one was a regular box, about twice the size of the other one, with a lid she’d have to pull off. She was mentally scratching her head with that one. No ideas as to what it could be.

Markus set the boxes on the table in front of her softly, sitting across from her on the other side. “I request that you open the shiny one first.”

Iris’ brow furrowed at the request, but her hands grabbed at the small one nonetheless. The wrapping paper was easily torn, and glitter flew _all over the fricken table_. God forbid Monster climb up the wood; he’d be shiny in a minute. But Iris was right, it was a small velvet box.

“Oooh, please tell me they’re new earrings!” She looked over to Carl, wonder and hope in her chocolate brown orbs. She could _always_ use a new pair of studs.

“Open it.” Carl pointed to the box with his bacon, but the smirk on his face gave away all Iris needed.

“YES!” She yelped, and with vigor her fingers pried open the box. Inside was a pair of golden earrings, shaped like feathers that dangled just a tad, the small pieces flaying out as Iris rested one on the curve of her finger. They weren’t too heavy; a perfect, small size. They were funky and _amazing_. “Oh, I _love_ them! Thank you, dad!” Iris leaned to him and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Now, onto box number two. The _mystery_.”

Iris’ fingers gently pried the top of the box and peered inside. “Oh, newspapers. How’d you know?”

“Keep looking.” Markus said softly. Iris looked over to him questioningly— _was he nervous_? —but grabbed at the bundle and pulled it out. _It was wrapped around something_.

“… Oh?” Iris questioned. She pulled at the newspaper, ripping through layers as quickly as her curiosity was running. In the middle was… “ _Oh_!”

A small sculpture, glazed and set nicely. _A cat_! Four paws were resting on one level as the feline sat, tall. Whiskers were drawn, small, barely visible in purple. A long tail curled around the paws. Bright blue eyes were painted on, like the sky on a summer morning. The best part, though, were the _colors_. The body was a soft yellow—the tail and ears were a couple shades darker, but not enough to be called orange. And on a front paw, just a small splotch of red.

Iris’ eyes crinkled as she spun the small sculpture in her hands. “Is this… Is this supposed to be Monster?!”

Markus nodded, a soft smile escaping him. “Yes. And I followed your rules of color. Do you… Do you like it?”

“ _Like_ it? Markus, I love love _love_ it!” She squealed. Then she realized, “Did you make this?”

Carl spoke for the android. “It’s a small project we’ve been working on for a few weeks. Some of those trips we took alone were walks to another pottery shop so you wouldn’t see it in the kiln. _Markus_ wanted to make something special for you, for such an exciting occasion.”

Iris was floored at such a thoughtful gesture from the android. Lord knew she wasn’t expecting _anything_ today, and she was almost speechless at the mini-Monster. Grinning sweetly to Markus, she stood from her seat. “C’mere, you get one, too.”

With quick steps she whizzed around the table between them and bent down to press a quick, chaste kiss onto his cheek, just like she did with her father. Markus tried not to smile at the gesture, but the smallest upturn of his lip was not easily controlled. The last time he received a kiss on the cheek from her, his skin felt aflame. This time wasn’t any different.

“So, you thought about this on your own?” Iris asked him, curious. Not that she minded, but androids weren’t exactly _supposed_ to think, so she was interested in the thought-process.

“Well,” Markus began to explain, looking up to her from his seat. “I wanted to create something for you, but I didn’t exactly have many ideas. Carl came up with a sculpture of Monster.”

“I _helped_ ,” Carl corrected. With ease he pushed his wheelchair around the table and whirled to the pair. “I gave him a couple ideas, but _he_ chose one and worked on the sculpture on his own. I was just a guide.”

Markus nodded, and Iris looked back to him. “Good choice. I love it.” She turned the sculpture in her hand, eyes roaming over every little detail about it. He must have worked on this for _hours_ upon hours. It was smooth to the touch, no nicks or bumps in sight. And the glaze job was great—those funky colors made her feel warm and home-y. He took her little lesson months ago to heart. _Or, thirium pump, rather,_ she thought with an inward chuckle.

“He made a _great_ choice.” Carl agreed, and after a beat, added, “You know, Markus, one day I won’t be here to take care of you anymore. You’ll have to protect yourself. Make your own choices. Decide who you are, and what you wanna become. This world doesn’t like those who are different. Don’t let anyone tell you who you should be.”

_Wonderous, dad_ , Iris thought after a silent beat. _Way to get philosophical at ten in the morning._

Still, it seemed that Markus took the life lesson with a yellow spin of his LED. _Well, I’ve heard the, “Be different, be **you** ,” speech years ago. Might as well tell Markus. _The thought crossed her mind that Markus probably never heard it before. Never heard the, “Only you can be you,” narrative. No, that was reserved for humans, never androids. It was actually _sweet_ that Carl was telling him, and Iris had to agree. So, with an inward shrug Iris dropped any sassy remark in her head and instead asked, “Let’s get to the studio, shall we?”

“Of course. You’re the boss today, little flower.”

Markus took hold of her father’s wheelchair and the pair headed over to the studio leisurely. Iris stayed behind, taking the dirty dishes her father made and cleaning them off in the kitchen sink. It may be her birthday, but she hated leaving a mess behind for Markus to clean up later. She had two hands that could easily rub crumbs of bacon off a plate; no need to leave it hanging.

Iris also put on the little feather earrings in, opting to take out a set of studs, and grabbed the mini-Monster statue. She didn’t know where she would put it. Atop her dresser in her room? In the living room somewhere? Maybe on the desk in the first room of the mansion, so she could see it when she walks in after a long day.

_Eh_ , Iris thought. _I’ll figure it out later. But for now, it comes with me_.

When she moseyed into the studio her father was already set into his mechanical chair, painting away at the enormous blue canvas. It was just about done—a few mini touch-ups before it was ready to be in the consumer world. Markus strolled around the room, grasping at a couple splattered paint cans and cleaning them.

Iris took her spot at her messy clay table in the back of the studio and set the mini-Monster in the middle of an open newspaper. _Talk about an adorable muse!_ It got her thinking; maybe that could be a new collection of hers. Cartoonish, funky little animals like the penguin or her ephelant. _Well, not the ephelant_ ; that was hers and Carls’. She’d have to make another elephant for the collection. But, _maybe_. It was an idea, at least.

Iris grabbed at an unopened package of clay, setting an animal in mind to create. _Dolphin? Lion? Giraffe? The worst animal of all; human?_ She let her mind wander as the whizzing of her father’s mechanical chair lowered him back onto the floor. “Oooh, is it done?”

Carl looked up to the canvas approvingly. “I think so, little flower.”

She bounded to him, stopping right behind his wheelchair so she could rest a hand against the top of the chair while her eyes took in the gigantic design. Lots of dark blues, blacks, a dab of turquoise. A face emerging from the mix of colors. _Dark and mysterio_ us, Iris thought. “I’m intrigued. It’s a damn good piece, dad.”

Carl smirked up at the painting, satisfied with it. “Thank you. What’s _your_ verdict, Markus?”

Iris cocked her head, looking at the android while he responded. “Yes, there is something about it. Something I can’t… quite… define.” She quirked an eyebrow up as he concluded, “I guess I like it.”

_Huh_ , she thought. _He finally admits to, “liking,” something. Who knew?_

“Truth is, I have nothing left to say anymore.” Carl said. Iris looked down to him, frowning. “Each day brings me closer to the end… I’m just an old man clinging to his brushes and children.”

“Dad,” Iris hissed disapprovingly. She hated when he spoke like this. Like life was just a tunnel and one day he would reach the end. While he wasn’t wrong, Iris didn’t want to talk, look, or even _think_ of crossing that bridge until it was necessary. She preferred thinking about the _journey_ of life, not the _end_. Her hand went to his shoulder, gripping it tightly. “As elected Boss for the Day, I’m vetoing _all_ macabre speak. Understood?”

Carl’s hand found its way to hers, covering her small one and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Enough about me, then.” With ease he dropped his hand from hers and spun his wheelchair around to face Markus. “Let’s see if you have any talent!”

The thought entered Iris’ mind briefly, and she furrowed her brows almost in sync as Markus’ LED spun in yellow. _No_ , she thought; _androids shouldn’t have any_ _talent. Not in the way we do_. But then again, Markus wasn’t like any other android Iris had met. He _liked_ art. Maybe he could?

“Give it a try.” Carl coaxed him. He folded his hands in his lap delicately, a wise smile gracing his features. “Try painting something.”

While Iris was intrigued by the command, Markus was taken aback. He stammered out, “ _Paint_? But, what—what would I—?!”

“Anything!” Carl said, and pointed over to an easel already equipped with a regular-sized blank canvas.  “Give it a try.”

Iris chuckled softly as Markus stared at the empty canvas, horror filling his emerald eyes like it was the devil incarnate. “It’s not gonna bite, Markus. C’mon, for the birthday girl?”

Markus stared hard at her as she held out her father’s paint palette to him, her eyebrow cocked teasingly back. “Please?” Iris added sweetly. He grabbed the palette from her fingers, jaw tense as he turned back to the empty canvas. His eyes stared at the open landscape, the LED flickering widely in yellow.

Markus was silent when he finally put paintbrush to canvas. The Manfred’s watched eagerly as colors molded in the brushstrokes, and Iris was glad that there was a lot. Reds, blues, yellows, and tans creating a small scene. Dozens of paintbrushes inside little paint-splattered cans. Then a desk formed, as did billowing sheets off the top, stuck in place with the paint cans.

_Oh_ , Iris realized. _It’s the paint desk right beside us. Clever, in a way._ Lots of colors to show off his skill, but Iris was a tad disappointed. There was no imagination behind the craft; no emotion. She would argue until she was blue in the face that _that_ is what made artistry come to life. But then again, Markus was an android. Like she thought earlier, androids probably couldn’t posses the talent that she and Carl had; they couldn’t put the feeling behind the brushstrokes. She was almost—no, she _was_ sad. Markus would probably never feel the same way she did when completing a project.

The android in question took a step back from the newly filled canvas, finished and looking back to Carl for the verdict.

“That is a perfect _copy_ , of reality.” The older Manfred nodded to the work. By no means was it _bad_ , but Iris agreed fully— _anyone_ could make a defined copy of reality. What made her job fun was _toying_ with reality. “But painting and sculpting is not about replicating the world. It’s about interpreting it, improving on it, showing something _you_ see.”

“Carl, I don’t…” Markus said. He stared at the painting he created intently, searching through the mess of colors. “I don’t think I can do that. It’s not in my program.” He shrugged his shoulders, but his gaze on the work hardened. Iris knew that face; that’s the, “ _I don’t understand because I’m not human but I **want to**_ ,” face.

Her father was having none of the android’s excuses. “Go on, try again! Grab that empty canvas, start over.”

Markus, still perplexed by such antics, complied and set up a new canvas on the opened easel.

“Remember what I told you all those months ago?” Iris asked him. Markus looked over to her curiously, eyes glued as she said, “It doesn’t need to be realistic. What dad and I do—what we _make_ , we _feel_. Happiness, curiosity, grief, wonder? All those emotions felt through the craft. Try and channel that.”

Carl nodded to Iris approvingly, and gestured for Markus to pick up the paintbrush again.

Once it was situated and Markus was ready, Carl instructed, “Do something for me. Close your eyes.” Markus stared at him, confused. “Close ‘em. Trust me.” After a beat the android did as instructed, albeit puzzled by the command. “Try to imagine something that doesn’t exist. Something you’ve never seen. Now _concentrate_ … on how it makes you _feel_.”

The LED on Markus’ head began to glow softly in yellow. It didn’t blink like it normally would, like he was processing something out-of-the-blue. It was a simple, soft glow. Calm.

“Let your hand drift across the canvas.” Carl directed softly.

And Markus did. Eyes still closed, he dabbed the paintbrush in a swatch of blue and gently began swirling it around the bottom of the canvas; large brushstrokes covering a wide expanse of the white underneath. The LED began flashing rapidly, and vaguely Iris wondered what it meant. Was he nervous? Did he have a design in mind now? Was he just taking in the suggestion?

Iris brought her eyes back to the work, and was surprised to see the beginnings of an outline through the colors. _What was that?_ She thought. _A face? A tree?_ She and Carl watched each stroke of paint intently, the mix of blues, oranges, whites and grays blending together wonderfully. The outline became more defined through the orange at the very top of the canvas—a _face_. _His_ face. Frowning through the colors, the orange almost blasting out of his eyes like it was drowning everything he saw.

And Iris’ heart swelled. _This_ is what she was looking for. _This_ is what she didn’t think Markus could do. She thought he couldn’t make a piece with emotion behind it; with struggle and wonder and fascination all wrapped up in one. Because, “Androids _couldn’t_ think. _They_ weren’t human. They weren’t _special_.”  Iris was glad to be proven wrong.

She’d been doing that a lot with Markus lately. She needed to stop doubting him. Android or not, Markus was an enigma of his own that she was going to crack.

Markus set the palette and brush on the desk beside the trio, signaling his finish. The LED was back to blue, calm as ever, but still he stared hard at his work. It was almost like he couldn’t believe _he_ was the one that created it. He was just as surprised as Iris and Carl.

“ _Wow_.” Iris hummed lowly, staring at the painting. She focused on what it made her _feel_. Sadness? The eyes cast out that orange, the soft undertones and angry flames twisting together. Resentment? _Pain_. “You’ve been holding out on us, Markus.”

“Oh my god.” Carl gasped. Iris nodded at the exclamation. The android proved her father’s theory more than they were expecting.

A soft _whir_ sounded behind the group, and Iris’ breath caught in her throat when a person stepped through the opening doors of the studio.

Shaggy brown hair covered by a beanie, still poofing out around the edges. Soft brown eyes, just like Iris’, though his were a tad more bloodshot and there were dark bags underneath. A gentle shadow on his jawline. Blue jacket. T-shirt. Brown pants.

_Leo_.

“Hey, dad.” He said. His voice was huskier than when she last heard him. “Hey, ‘Ree.”

“Leo.” Carl said, surprised. Iris was glad he spoke. She couldn’t.

The trio weren’t expecting a visit from him. They weren’t expecting anything from Leo, _period_ , considering he’d gone AWOL for over a _whole goddamn year_. Iris had been _worried sick_ this whole fucking time and he decided to show up on her doorstep on her birthday.

Oh, if she could move, she would _sock him_ right there.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Carl noted.

“Ah,” Leo shrugged it off with an all-too-forced smile at their father. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by.”

“Oh, did you?” Iris’ eyes stared hard at him, her brow furrowing harshly.

“Yeah,” Leo nodded (would that jerk to the side count as a nod?) to her. “It’s-it’s been awhile, right?”

She wished she could be happier at the unexpected visit. If they were a normal family, having a brother show up at the doorstep would be cause for long-awaited hugs and impromptu meals, telling stories jovially while the sun hung low in the sky after the time passed by. But no, the Manfred’s weren’t normal. They were held together by a single thread, the edges of the quilt fraying and falling from the inner turmoil of the family tree.

“Ages.” Was all Iris could muster.

“You all right?” Carl asked his son, twisting the wheels of his chair so he could properly face Leo. It wasn’t hard to spot. The shifty, bloodshot eyes; the jerky movements. Even the soft, barely-there stutter behind his words. “You don’t look so good.”

_You look like you’ve been passed out behind a dumpster for twelve hours_ , Iris mentally corrected.

She. _Fucking. **Knew it.**_

Leo waved off the concern. “Oh, yeah yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He brought a shaky hand to the beanie on his head, readjusting it as he added, “Hey, listen, uh… I need some cash, guys.”

It took all of Iris’ willpower not to grab the used paintbrush beside Markus and throw it directly into Leo’s _fucking bloodshot eyes_.

How could he do this to them again? How could he continue down this fucking path, like he didn’t have people who loved him, people who cared about him?!

How could Leo do this to _her_?

Doesn’t he know how much it breaks her heart to watch him hurt, to watch him stutter and jerk and break down like this?

Iris missed her brother. Dearly. She missed his _actual_ smile. She missed goofing off with him; missed those days in summer where they’d run off into Detroit and spend a day in the park, people-watching. She missed school nights where they would stay up far too late and read comics under the covers. Iris missed _Leo_ —not his addiction.

“Again?” Carl asked innocently. “What happened to the money in your account?”

Leo let out a squeaky laugh, sputtering out, “Uh, well-well, it just _goes_ , y’know?”

“Oh, does it?” Iris challenged. Her stomach sank, but she knew he was using. She could see it in… well, his _everything_. Her hands shook by her sides, fingers curling tightly into fists unknowingly in order to keep herself from yelling. She hated seeing Leo like this. It brought the worst out in him _and_ the worst out of Iris. Carl was a broken mediator between the two; even he couldn’t stop the unbridled anger that flowed through Iris during one of their many interventions for Leo.

“’Ree…” Leo started. “C’mon, I jus-just need a couple bucks.”

Carl shook his head, his eyes closing in defeat. “Yeah, you’re on it again, aren’t you?”

“No! Oh, no, I swear, it’s not that.”

“Bull- _fucking_ -shit.” Iris spat. He _promised_. Leo Manfred promised to her a year ago he’d stay clean. _Why did he always break his fucking promise?_ She tried her best to choke back the tears threatening to escape. Tears did nothing for an argument with her brother except leave her lightheaded with dried wet trails down her cheeks.

“ _What difference does it make_?!” Iris jumped at the sharp outburst from Leo; the quick, exasperated hiss struck her like a brick. “I just need some cash, that’s all!”

Iris could feel the gentle touch of a hand at her forearm, warm and comforting as she shook violently in place. Her eyes flicked over to Markus beside her, catching his green orbs staring at her shaking form softly. She could only imagine hers brimming with rage as her gaze snapped back to Leo.

Markus’ calm touch provided her some comfort in the moment—a quick second for her to breathe. _Funny_ , she thought, **_I_** _taught him this trick_. Her mind went back to their first bake sale together, where the older woman wouldn’t let _some filth_ like Markus sell her a goddamn cookie. That day, Iris gently rested a hand against his forearm behind the table—where the lady couldn’t see, of course—in solidarity. A quiet, “I have your back,” if things went sideways. And now it was Markus’ turn to have hers.

Unfortunately for the pair, Leo took note of the close proximity between the two; the soft rest of Markus’ hand against his sister’s arm, and that only added more fuel to why he fucking _hated_ androids. Sure, they were everywhere. They took jobs from lower-income people like him. One could say the upgraded tin cans were the downfall of the U.S. economy. Now, here they are, in his goddamn family, next to his sister, so _fucking perfect_ in a way Leo could never be.

“Sorry,” Carl said flatly. Though he didn’t sound as affected as Iris was, she knew his heart must have been breaking. “The answer’s no.”

“ _What_? Why?”

_What? Not the answer you were expecting? “Here, Leo, I’ll give you money that I know will directly enter your bloodstream in a matter of hours. Have fun, honey.”_

“You know why.” Iris was almost proud—her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

Leo’s gaze snapped back to her, and this time he held back no anger. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do know why.” He swaggered over to Iris and Markus, steps heavy as his feet hit the ground. Him being so close—half an arm’s length away—meant she could see the seething anger in his eyes, could feel the hatred radiating off him in waves. They hadn’t been that close in _years_. _He must be royally pissed off_.

“You’d rather take care of your _little princess_ and plastic prick than your son, right? Rather,” Leo stuttered as he glared down to Iris. She forced her eyes upward, every bit of his loathing striking chords in her. “Rather dote on your little doll while she plays with her toy?”

Iris could feel bile rising in her throat, could feel herself choking on her words before they even came out. “That is _not_ fair-” _And it’s not true. I am not a princess_. And then she wondered just where all this fury was coming from. Sure, the Red Ice made Leo loads angrier, but where did the, “princess,” comment come from? Was it just the drugs, or… did he really think that?

She didn’t have a chance to get the rest out before Markus dropped his hand off her, taking a gracious step forward to put distance between her and her brother. His voice was calm as he stated, “You’re making my companions upset. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Leo actually _laughed_ at the request, like it was the most ridiculous thing. He didn’t have to be an android to understand he was pissing off his family. Didn’t mean he was going to leave. “Tell me, dad, what’s it got that I don’t?”

_It_. Leo loved making the distinction.

“It’s smarter? More obedient? Not like me, right? No, more like Iris. More _perfect_.” Leo jabbed a finger onto Markus’ chest accusingly. “But you know what? This _thing_ is not your son. It’s a fucking _MACHINE_!!” The single jab became a full-force shove at Markus; Leo pushed him with enough muscle that Markus’ body barreled backwards, almost hitting the wet canvas behind him.

“Leo!” Iris shouted, pushing herself in between the pair and shoving harshly at Leo’s shoulders. “Knock it off!”

“That’s enough!” Carl yelled. Leo turned back to their father, chest rising in quick, heated breaths, and Carl repeated. “Enough.”

Leo stared hard at his father, disappointment and anger seething through every fiber of his being. Iris remembered this tactic of his well. He didn’t get what he wanted, so he throws a fit like a child.

“You only care about your daughter and your goddamn paintings.” Leo didn’t stutter once. “You never loved _me_.” He took soft, deliberate steps to the door, the mechanism whirring open as he pulled through. “You never loved me.” It was so soft, a quiet whisper, that Iris almost didn’t register it.

The door closed behind him, and Iris’ brain buzzed to life, everything Leo said registering at once. _Cash, princess, plastic, never loved me_. And she couldn’t let him leave. Not when _that’s_ the last thing she and Carl hear from Leo for who knows how long.

She ran through the studio door as fast as the mechanics could open, her feet pounding against the wood floors as she ran through the living room and into the walkway of the mansion. He was a few paces away from the front door, disappointment radiating like a damn forcefield. Still, Iris called out, “That’s a _goddamn_ _lie_.”

She could see the freeze in his steps and the deep sigh he took when he heard her, as if Iris chasing after him added another layer of frustration. “What?”

“Dad,” Iris stopped beside the desk as she let out breathy pants. “You know that’s a fucking lie. He loves you more than anything in the world.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.”

Iris restrained herself from marching up to him and smacking his goddamn face. The words flied out of her mouth before she could stop herself, “Because he wants you to get _better_ he doesn’t love you?! I think it means he loves you _so much_. And I feel the same exact way, you idiot. _I love you so much and you keep fucking doing this to yourself_!”

The words kept barreling through her, filter thrown to the wind because, _fuck_ , it’s Leo, and if he goes AWOL again, she didn’t know if she’d ever get the chance to say it. “And I-I’m not perfect, asshole! I’m just as fucked up as the next person. I’m not a goddamn princess. Why would you say that? Why would you think that?” Her eyes glistened, the mix of anger and grief threatening to spill tears. “Do you hate me that much?”

Leo’s jaw clenched as looked at his sister, his height easily allowing him to tower over her form. He sounded clearer now than he did in the studio. “I don’t hate you, ‘Ree. But I fucking _envy_ you. You had the perfect childhood, the perfect _father_ , and I got the scraps.”

“I had a dead mother and a father who resented me.” Her life wasn’t handed to her on a silver platter, and god forbid if _anyone_ thought that. “We worked to get where we are now.”

Leo gave a tight-lipped smile, and Iris could see her words going in one ear and out the other. When he’s like this, nothing would stick in that goddamn brain.

“What do you want me to say, Iris?”

Two words. “You. Promised.”

Leo let out a cackle of indignation. “Yeah, I, uh-I promise a lot of things, ‘Ree.”

He took two steps to the door, his hand grabbing at the doorknob and opening it with a jerky twist of his wrist. The cool rush of air hit Iris’ face. _Please don’t go. Please, Leo, let’s talk about this like actual fucking adults. Please don’t run away again._ Of course, he walked straight through without looking back to her. It was more painful than Iris thought it would be—like the gesture was a slap to the face. The sound of the door slamming registered before his last comment did.

“Happy birthday.”


End file.
